


against the shore

by Withpetals_withblood



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Bottom Stiles, Cheating, Eventual Fluff, F/F, F/M, Happy Ending, M/M, Piercings, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content, Tattoos, They're stoners lets be real, Venice Beach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 10:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1685780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Withpetals_withblood/pseuds/Withpetals_withblood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living in Venice Beach was living in paradise and Stiles wouldn't have it any other way. He worked at a clinic on the boardwalk, had a good group of friends and enjoyed the most beautiful sunsets California had to offer. There was nothing more he could have asked for besides maybe a bigger apartment with his own washer and dryer, but hey, who was complaining? He was perfectly content having sand between his toes on a daily basis and watching the faces of wanderers come and go.</p><p>That is until a new bartender, Derek Hale, is introduced to him on a sunny afternoon in June and throws his whole life for quite a spin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	against the shore

Like ships in the night  
You keep passing me by  
We're just wasting time  
Trying to prove who's right  
And if it all goes crashing into the sea  
If it's just you and me  
Trying to find the light

+

**Venice Beach California: "Another Day In Paradise"**

The sign was wind-beaten and sore- a mustard yellow that hurt your eyes if you looked at it for too long. It creaked when the wind blew and the block letters that spelled out something of a welcome were written in sloppy black sharpie. It wasn't quite as inviting as it was supposed to be but it did the job, especially when a ratty old converse was kicked up on top of it and long fingers darted down to shove green shoelaces underneath the tongue of his shoe. Stiles was a regular. A Venice boardwalk veteran. After he dropped out of high school some two or three years ago he got a job as a receptionist at one of the pop-up clinics down past the gym and decided not to look back. 

"How could you even think of going back, man?" It was Scott's voice who had propelled them into the conversation of decision making, life, roles, and whether or not it would be smart for Stiles to call Pop's and head back up North. Wide brown eyes watched him and Scott grinned when his sunglasses dropped down to the tip of his nose, "We're living the dream." 

Stiles smirked, soft and small, "We are, aren't we?"

It was obvious that the twenty-one year old didn't need convincing, nor did he need a pep-talk, especially as he straightened his back and looked out over the horizon where the sun hung high in the sky and waves crashed against the shore. Venice was paradise. 

"Of fucking course we are!" Scott clasped a hand over Stiles' shoulder and gave a gentle shake, "Now c'mon, it's like-" he narrowed his eyes down at the black watch around his wrist, "almost three fifteen, Allison can hook us up at Sidewalk." 

A seagull screeched from on top of a 'no littering' sign on the edge of the beach and Stiles nodded, walking next to Scott as he dug in his pockets for a pack of cigarettes. 

It was a Thursday and the board walk was quieter than normal. A few tourists snapped pictures here and there, amateur musicians handed out their CD's in hopes of being heard and artists smiled from their booths against the sand- some were paintings, others jewelry, a couple psychics offered tarot readings and there were other obscure merchandise scattered across the quirky coast line. 

Stiles sighed when their pace slowed and rolled his eyes as Scott turned and bit down on his lower lip, rolled it between his teeth and waved, "Hey, see, see her-" Scott talked out of the side of his mouth and Stiles arched a brow, "that's the girl I told you about, Kira."

A dark haired young woman was shaded under an umbrella, circular sunglasses propped on her nose. The dark cherry of her lipstick followed the curve of her mouth when she smiled and lifted a hand to wave back, the other resting idly over a large glass jar filled with cash and change. Stiles watched her shift in her witchy-poo boots and glanced down to the tub hidden safely in the shade just the right of her feet. 

"The contortionist?" Stiles mumbled, earning an enthusiastic nod.

"She can swallow swords too," Scott purred.

Stiles chuckled, gave a two fingered wave and turned to continue walking before he felt a tug on his forearm and groaned as Scott pulled him along.

"Just say hi," Scott hissed.

"I'm fucking starving," Stiles spat under his breath as they approached.

"Oh, shut up you puss- Hey! Kira!" Wood-stained eyes widened and Scott opened his arms, inviting her in for a hug, "How's the business going?"

A long sigh left the woman but her smile was warm as she leaned in to hug Scott, arms snaking around his mid-section, "Well, today's been slow but it's not too bad. We just got this little guy in yesterday, check him out." She leaned down to dip her hands into the bucket and pulled out a very beautiful but very strange little reptile. "Meet Jerry," she cooed, holding him close to her chest.

Jerry was a boa. A two headed boa who flicked his tongues nervously in the open air.

Scott barked out a laugh and Stiles reached out to stroke the snakes back before he held out a hand to Kira, "I'm Stiles," he side-eyed Scott who rambled out an apology for not introducing them, "Scott told me you just wandered into town a few days ago."

"Yeah," Kira shrugged, "they had an opening and being the last standing freak show in the country is pretty awesome so I couldn't help but try out." 

Stiles nodded and reached up to adjust the oversized beanie hanging off the back of his head, "It is pretty awesome, we'll have to come check out the show sometime, they re-vamped it from last summer didn't they?"

"Yeah, they did. You should," chestnut eyes flicked over to Scott, "You definitely should."

The tops of Scott's ears were turning red before he could stammer out anything in agreement. 

A couple customers walked up and gasped over the pretty snake wrapped around Kira's wrist and as her attention was stolen Stiles hauled Scott away, chuckling quietly about how completely horrible he was at flirting. Scott glanced over his shoulder a few times, watched as the girl placed Jerry back in his tub and smiled when she stood up and swayed her hips, "She's like, oh my god, man, she's just-"

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles' eyes rolled once again, "I get it, buddy." 

A group of teenagers flew past them on skateboards and Stiles nearly tripped stumbling out of the way. He cursed, caught his sunglasses when they almost flew off his shirt and shoved Scott when he heard his friend start to laugh. 

Allison worked at The Sidewalk Cafe in the evenings after she opened the bookstore in the mornings. It was an easy transition seeing as Small Worlds Books was located just to the right of the cafe. They spotted her as soon as they walked up. She was tying an apron around her waist with a pen dangling between her teeth- an unruly dark curl fell from behind her ear and she hissed, shoved her hand up and tucked it back. Her lips were bare, chapped a little from the salty air, and Stiles tapped on a table as they walked by the patio, "She looks a little-"

"Stressed, yeah," Scott breathed, "I think she and Lydia have been having problems and apparently she has to train this new bartender or some shit."

When the two boys rounded the corner they darted over to a small table next to the railing on the patio and sat down. Allison was at their sides shortly after, her powder pink flats crunching against the asphalt as she approached. 

"Hey," she breathed, gold bangles jingling as she flipped her small notepad open, "are you off today, Stiles?"

Stiles nodded, chewing absently on his index finger while he looked over the menu he already knew by heart, "Yeah, just been relaxing for most of the morning. Met up with Scott a couple hours ago after he finished opening at the shop."

"Stick a needle anywhere interesting today?" Allison's voce was coy and she arched a brow, tongue stuck playfully between her teeth. She was beautiful and soft, feather ear rings looped through small gauges, a beige top tucked neatly into a short leather skirt. 

She tilted her head to the side when Scott huffed out a laugh.

"Not really," he sang the last word as his lip pulled down into a grimace, "Some girl wanted triple surface on her sternum," Scott shrugged, "she decided to go with one instead."

Allison laughed with her whole body and when she lifted her hands and clasped them in front of her chest she looked like something wild, even with dark circles hanging low against her eyes, "Well, let me feed you boys, what's it gonna be-"

A loud crash from inside cut her words into a gasp. 

"Shit- hold on," Allison hissed, shoving the notepad back into the pocket of her apron before she bounded off. The boys watched her round the corner inside where the bar and indoor seating was. Both of them were surprised to see what walked out on to the patio behind her.

Stiles' brow arched curiously.

He was tall, with dark hair and a crisp short beard. His cheeks were frosted in a deep blush and he was biting back an embarrassed smile as Allison smoothed a hand over his shoulder and threw her head back, laughing playfully when he shook his head. 

Scott cleared his throat and Stiles blinked away, "You can't eat him with your eyes, man," Scott mumbled, taking a sip off the glass of water in front of him.

"I can try," Stiles breathed, amber eyes moving back to gaze at the stranger who was chatting with Allison. He must have been the new guy. The one she had to train. Stiles wasn't complaining- but he wasn't engaged. It wasn't uncommon for attractive soul-searchers to make their way down the coast and end up in the ghetto by the sea but it was rare for any of them to stick around more than three months. 

The stranger reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a pair of thin black rimmed glasses, slid them on his nose and shrugged when Allison gave an understanding nod. 

It wasn't long before Allison was nodding towards their table and waving for the trainee to follow as she walked back over, heaving a sigh, "Okay-" she started, "this is Derek." 

A soft smile pushed Derek's lips up at the corners and he gave a curt nod, obviously being as polite as he could. Allison watched him before taking out her notepad again and pointing to the two of them, "This is Scott," she jabbed her thumb to the right. Scott propped his elbow on the table and gave a half-hearted wave, "he's a piercer down at Ocean Front Tattoo. Best on the beach."

"You ever had any?" Scott piped, rubbing his hands together.

"A few," Derek answered plainly, voice rough and warm as he pushed his glasses up with the pad of his index finger. 

"Where?" It was Stiles this time, eyes scanning down this Derek's torso, over the grey long sleeved shirt that was riding up, across the slender strip of skin that was exposed just above the line of his jeans and-

Allison cleared her throat as Derek tugged on the end of his henley. She had her teeth clamped into her lip and shot a glare to Stiles who simply smirked and reached for his glass of water. 

The waitress rolled her eyes, "Don't mind him-"

"I don't," Derek mused dryly.

Stiles' brow lifted higher.

"This is Stiles," Allison nearly groaned, "he works down at the doctors."

Derek looked from Allison to Stiles and shook his head, eyes narrowed, "Like at an office or-"

"The Green Doctor," Stiles clarified, "I run the front desk and help with the clinic side of things. You know, the big green building with the girls wearing pot leaves as bathing suits?"

Scott choked as he started to laugh and Allison shook her head when Derek almost smiled, "Yeah, I've walked past it a couple times."

"Well," Allison clasped her hands together, "Derek is going to be a bartender here but I need to show him how to run food and such so," she tapped the pen between her fingers against the notepad, "What'll it be?" 

The boys always ordered one of three things and today was no different. Scott got the club sandwich with potato salad and Stiles ordered the blackened mahi burger with kale chips and tea. They said their 'thank you's' when Allison bumped Derek with her hip and ushered him over to some other tables waiting patiently for service.

Derek was handsome. Beyond handsome. He was enticing and his voice was far more even than Stiles had expected. Someone like that- someone so promising tended to always lose it in the voice. It either cracked or bellowed, was too high or too soft. But this Derek had a voice that was smooth and controlled. Strange.

"Don't do it," Scott kicked Stiles under the table, "You know he's just a passer-by, dude. You know he's gonna be gone by September."

Stiles hummed, "It's June," he was looking over his shoulder, watching Derek smile at a couple of customers on the other side of the patio, "that's plenty of time."

Scott scoffed as he rolled up one of his sleeves, exposing a line of surface piercings decorating his forearm, "You're an idiot."

"I am," Stiles agreed, shifting forward when Allison walked the food out, followed by Derek holding Stiles' cup of tea.

Long fingers moved up to readjust his beanie and Stiles thanked Derek when he set the cup down, pausing only for a moment when he caught the sight of a pack of Camel filters poking out of Derek's front pocket.

"Those the only thing you smoke?" Stiles asked, eyes flicking up to find Derek watching him carefully.

A small sarcastic smile was all he got in return, partnered with a snort and a quick turn as Derek paced back inside behind Allison.

+

Come With Me Now by the Kongos was playing over the loud speakers when Stiles heard the bell jingle and the front door opened. He was singing along, mouthing the words from behind the desk at the clinic. There was a string of dark brown beads hanging in the doorway between him and-

"Derek," Stiles let his name fall off the tip of his tongue and smiled when the man weaved his hands through the beads and pushed them aside. He wanted to say something witty, to make a wise ass remark and redeem himself from the sheer surprise that washed over him. Because he hadn't expected Derek- the man from yesterday who was so uninterested in him that it could have been insulting, to walk through the door of his work place. 

"What're you doing-"

"Allison sent me to pick up for her," Derek sighed, fishing in his pocket before he slid his cell phone out and swiped across it a few times, "she needs..." he narrowed his eyes and grumbled before reaching into his other pocket to pull out his glasses, setting them down on the bridge of his nose, "uh, 'whatever-the shit-he-gave-me-last-time-with-the-weird-dessert-name.'" 

Stiles was chewing on the inside of his cheek while he watched Derek squint at his phone and couldn't help but smile at the way he huffed and puffed over wearing his glasses. But he nodded and shrugged, "Yeah, it was Pineapple Upside Down." 

Derek's lips were slack and his eyes flicked around Stiles' face, seeming just as uninterested as he did yesterday when they met at the cafe. 

It was quiet- that awkward kind of quiet that left Stiles to shift in his converse and shake his head slowly, "Did she tell you how much or...?" 

The bartender shrugged, lip pulling down into a mock grimace which coaxed another smile to pull at Stiles' mouth.

"It's cool," Stiles' came around from behind the counter and curled his finger, leading Derek over to another glass top display, "I'll just give her what she got last time, but, uh-" he grit his teeth, "you do have your card right?" Stiles made a card shape with his fingers and was pleasantly surprised to see Derek pull one out of his wallet and hand it over.

This guy didn't talk much that was for damn sure. 

"Oh, awesome," Stiles offered up another smile and Derek lifted his brows in response.

He tapped the counter a few times as he walked behind it and slid the lanyard attached to his keys from around his neck, "Did you need anything while you were here?"

Derek shook his head, black combat boots squeaking against the tile floor.

"You sure?" Stiles pressed, grinning as he weighed out Allison's purchase, "I've got some great stuff of my own and I'm off at six." 

There was no response but when he looked up Derek was smiling coolly from his place on the other side of the counter.

"I scored something pretty heavy. I guess it's called Widowmaker," Stiles added, hissing through the last word with his tongue between his teeth.

Derek hummed.

Stiles slid the credit card and pushed the brown paper bag towards Derek, embarrassment and something else he couldn't quite define bubbling out of his pores. This guy just didn't talk did he? He didn't talk. He wasn't interested and Scott was probably right. 

Just another pretty passer-by. Another beautiful stranger. Venice was full of them and Stiles should have been used to them by now but something about this one- something about Derek had him itching to be acknowledged. 

Stiles forced a smile when he took the bag.

He smiled wider when Derek licked over his lips and asked, "Sativa or Indica?"

"Sativa," Stiles answered calmly, eyes drifting over the rim of Derek's glasses.

Derek's lips were pursed into a thin line and Stiles didn't quite know what to expect until he swayed on the balls of his feet and pressed his hand through the wall of beads in front of the door way. 

"I'm off at eight tonight," Derek swallowed and Stiles fidgeted, "come by for a drink around then and we'll hangout after."

Stiles didn't even get the chance to say 'see ya' before the door closed.

+

"You're a dumb ass," Scott scoffed, unwrapping a heath bar as they leaned against the back of an old yellow VW bus, "I don't know why you're getting your hopes up for this guy."

"I'm not," Stiles pushed the words between his teeth before he took a drag off a cigarette, "we're just gonna hang out and blaze."

"Sure," Scott rolled his eyes.

"Seriously," Stiles assured, voice as even as he could muster, "he just seems like a cool guy to hang out with, I mean-"

Scott barked out a laugh, "He doesn't even speak! How would you know?"

"Allison liked him enough to send him down to the clinic for her-"

"Allison likes you enough to try and get you laid," Scott stated matter-of-factly. He looked over to Stiles and took a bite off the candy bar, backwards baseball hat all askew and sunlight pouring into his eyes. 

Stiles licked over his lips and squared his shoulders, turned to face the sun as it dipped down below the horizon and melted unceremoniously into the Pacific ocean. Beautiful. It was always so beautiful and as his lips wrapped around the end of the American 

Spirit set between his fingers Stiles wondered if anything could ever be more beautiful than a sunset in Venice Beach. A sunset that led in no true direction, just left bits of scattered light to lead the strange people who called this place home down the coast and back again.

Scott was right. Stiles knew Scott was right.

But he thought of Derek's eyes, the way his lips curved up when he smiled- all sarcastic and pretentious.

And he didn't care. 

+

Stiles wanted to say 'what's good?' or 'make me the house special.' He wanted to walk up and swing himself on to a bar stool with his elbows against the bar top and whistle to get Derek's attention. He wanted it to play out like it did in every romantic comedy he had ever seen- but this was Stiles and no matter how smooth he tried to be there was something constantly throwing him off.

He did manage to swing himself on to the bar stool, though. 

Derek was cleaning a glass with a rag and Stiles drummed his fingers against the polished wood of the bar, "Hola," Stiles piped.

Deep ivy eyes glanced up once and Derek offered a curt nod, "Want something?" 

Stiles sank his teeth into his bottom lip, chewed and pulled on it nervously. 

"Yeah," he answered, swallowing a shallow breath before he shrugged, "what do you suggest?" 

One of Derek's eyebrows lifted as he reached for a bottle of Crown Royal and a chilled martini glass. Stiles watched his hands- large and scarred flit across the top of each container of juice before he found what he was looking for. He poured in cranberry followed by apple schnapps and topped it with whiskey, gave it a good shake and poured it neatly into the glass.

He pushed it towards Stiles with his index finger, "Washington Apple," the bartender presented the drink and turned back to wiping down glass ware. 

Amber eyes examined the brightly colored beverage before he grabbed it by the stem and tilted it against his lips. Stiles saw Derek watch him out of the corner of his eye and smiled, "It's good, really good." 

Derek nodded, "One of my favorite drinks," he sighed and untied the apron from around his waist, "also one of the first I was ever taught how to make." Stiles opened his mouth to respond when the man reached over and took a sip off his drink, "I'll be out in a minute."

Stiles' cheeks heated, back stiffened and he stumbled over some kind of ridiculous remark as Derek walked away towards the door at the end of the bar. "Get your own," was all that was mumbled and Stiles cracked his knuckles and mentally kicked himself for being so completely dismantled. 

Strangers came.

Strangers went.

Stiles was used to it. Used to flashing eyes at the waves of travelers that called Venice home for a short-time and wasn't bothered when they went on their merry way. However, this innately uninteresting cactus of a man had him biting at the edges of his rationality. 

whats up with this guy

Stiles pressed send.

Allison texted back only a second later.

hes weird but hot

Stiles rolled his eyes.

omfg ally seriously

He fiddled with the bottom of his tank top and jumped when his phone vibrated again.

maybe hes shy

"Shy..." Stiles breathed out through his teeth as he read over the words, eyebrows knitted together as a loud scoff made its way up and over his lips.

"Whose shy?" 

Stiles hissed, almost dropped his phone and felt a hand against the small of his back when he nearly toppled off the bar stool. 

Derek blinked, head tilted to the side as he held Stiles up-right and snorted a laugh when he was swatted away.

"No one," Stiles coughed, "you ready?" 

The white soles of Stiles' converse hit the tile and Derek gestured towards the door, "I'm following you," he stated matter-of-factly and Stiles rolled his eyes as he walked towards the door. 

+

"This," Derek had his hands shoved in the front pockets of his jeans, "is where you want to hang out?"

They were standing in the parking lot that lined the boardwalk and faced the ocean. It was obvious that most of the cars belonged to those who lived there and were decorated with large cardboard signs, sand art or paint. A few had flagpoles attached to them, like the old pick-up truck in the center that belonged to the glassblowers. However, the vehicle Stiles was leaning against was his old yellow VW bus. 

"Yeah," Stiles shrugged, leaning down to grab Scott's heath bar wrapper from off the ground, "this is like, my baby, dude. I practically live in this thing."

He swung open the back door and smirked when Derek's eyes widened from behind his glasses.

The back of the bus was layered with comforters and pillows, all different fabrics and designs. Old records were plastered to the walls and over the windows, pictures lined the ceiling and a thick curtain blocked out the view of the front two seats and the windshield. 

Stiles kicked off his shoes, shoved them under a tire and crawled in, "C'mon," he gestured impatiently to a slender glass pipe sitting to the right on a lavender pillow, "I'll pack a bowl." 

Derek was hesitant and he swayed, hips lolling to the left as Stiles crawled up into the front and dug through the center console before pulling out an orange bottle. He unlaced each of his boots, placed them on top of the other tire and sat on the bumper before finally heaving a sigh and plopping down on the array of blankets.

"Close the-" Stiles flung his hand from side to side and growled at himself for not being able to find the words, "can you, uh-"

"Yeah," Derek reached over and grabbed the two back-doors.

"Thanks," Stiles narrowed his eyes down at the pipe in his hand and pressed a few more pieces of vibrant green and purple weed into the bowl, "you want greens?" 

Derek shrugged.

"Here," Stiles handed over the pipe and dug in his pocket, almost rolling on to his side as he searched for a lighter, "you hit first." 

It was quiet in the bus and as Derek took the pipe he eyed Stiles, watched the slender young man fiddle with a little speaker before he pressed his lips to the end of the glass and flicked the flame open on the lighter, spreading it gingerly over the top of the bowl. He inhaled, deep and long, coughed when he exhaled, "Jesus Christ," Derek hissed, eyes watering.

Music played softly from the small speaker once Stiles had his phone plugged in, "Yeah, I heard it's strong I mean-" he laughed when Derek passed the pipe back, "it sounds like it's named after some kind of weapon from a video game so..."

The words faded when he took a sharp hit off the pipe, inhaled and bit down on his lip. It was strong and the smoke tickled the back of his throat until he pushed it out through his nose in a long exhale. Derek was watching him, cross legged with his hands in his lap and Stiles grinned because fucking wow, what a sight. 

"When did you start smoking?" Stiles asked as the bartender took another short puff.

"Like three years ago," he shrugged.

"Why?" Stiles leaned against the back of one of the front seats. 

"I have glaucoma," Derek answered casually stirring a bark of laughter to tumble out of Stiles' mouth. 

Silence.

Stiles was stuck with an open-mouthed grin on his face, eyebrows raised, waiting for the 'just kidding, bro' but it never came. Derek just fiddled with his thumbs and huffed when he noticed a hangnail on his pinky finger. 

That was right before he slid his glasses off the bridge of his nose and started cleaning them with a soft grey cloth he had stored in his wallet.

"Oh my god," Stiles' cheeks burned and he wanted to curl himself into the smallest possible ball he could, "you're-"

"Serious, yes," Derek snorted out a small chuckle, "it's not a big deal."

"I'm sorry for laughing," the words were on Stiles' lips so quick he nearly spit them out.

Derek's eyes wrinkled when he smiled, "Honestly," he lifted his eyes to look at Stiles who was frosted pink with worry, "you don't have to apologize."

"I do though!" Stiles held his breath and scrambled to sit up on his knees, "that's- I mean... Are you...? Is, how-"

"My eyes," Derek chuckled, gesturing with two fingers across the bridge of his nose, "they don't get enough fluid and the fluid they do get doesn't drain right or some shit. It's complicated and when it started to hurt my doctor recommended a more natural form of medicine." 

Stiles was completely dumbfounded. He sat with the pipe dangling on his thigh, head cocked to the side, honeycomb eyes blanketed a diluted red. His free hand was bunched nervously in the striped blanket beneath him and he flinched when Derek's fingertips brushed across his knuckles as he snatched the pipe out of his hand.

"When did you start smoking, Stiles?" 

The man was loose and at ease, his shoulders were relaxed and everything about the situation was what Stiles had been hoping for. Simple. Mundane. Quiet. But as Arctic Monkeys started to hum through the bus and Derek waited patiently for a response 

Stiles suddenly felt himself shadowed with the want to withdraw. The young man chewed on his fingernails and stared at his lap.

Derek stretched his leg out, nudged Stiles' kneecap with his toes.

"Oh-" Stiles let his body slump back and he caught himself on his palms when he fell down into the pillows, "uhm, like, sophomore year of high school?" 

The bartender nodded and handed the pipe back, "I'm good," he nodded when Stiles held up the orange bottle. 

"You sure?" Stiles asked through a smile.

"Very," Derek laughed, eyelids heavy and lips slack as he leaned back and looked up towards the ceiling where photos were taped into collages. 

The line of Derek's throat was hard and long, leading down to two collarbones that peeked out of the v-neck draped over his torso. His chest rose and fell with every slow breath he took and Stiles gnawed on the inside of his cheek as he continued down further, over the sharp jut of hipbones and thighs constricted in tight black pants that-

A soft grumble pulled his eyes away before he noticed Derek's fingers brushing lightly across his forearm.

"It's okay," Derek's voice was raspy from the smoke.

"What's okay?" Stiles asked, turning back to face the man whose fingers were drawing circles on his wrist.

Strange. Beautiful. Weird. Wait.

Green eyes blinked and Derek shifted, "You have really nice eyelashes."

Stiles arched a brow.

"Do I?" he asked, humored and flattered as he reached up to run the pad of his index finger across his own lashes, "that's so sweet," he teased, watching as Derek stuck his tongue between his teeth when he smiled, "you have nice everything so-"

Derek curled in on himself when he started to laugh and Stiles couldn't help but join in. 

It was unashamed, loud, and very much induced laughter that left Stiles wiping tears from his eyes. 

"You're not so bad when you actually, ya know," he kicked Derek's shin gently, "talk."

Derek snorted and rolled his eyes.

"You're not so bad when you actually shut up," he snapped playfully. 

Stiles leaned back against one of the front seats and Derek closed his eyes.

The sound of waves crashing against the beach was distant and Stiles didn't mind when Derek started to whisper along to whatever song was playing on his phone. He didn't move much, just smirked when he felt Derek's fingertips like static against his arm again and even though questions stirred in the back of his mind, he stayed quiet.

Maybe they had time. It was only June after all.

+

Two days went by before Stiles saw Derek again and it was over an egg-salad sandwich and the mutual love of oolong tea. 

Derek told Stiles that Allison was throwing a bonfire.

Stiles nodded.

"You gonna go?" Derek asked as he licked his fingers clean, "Apparently I get to meet the rest of 'the gang'," he added, raising his fingers into air quotes.

Stiles smiled, "I'll go."

The bartender walked away with their dirty plate in his hands and Stiles didn't mind watching the way his hips swayed.

+

"Oh, is he a good kisser?" Allison cooed.

Stiles rolled his eyes and groaned when the brunette held a bikini top up against herself.

"I wouldn't know," Stiles chirped.

"Does this look okay, I mean it's kind of- wait," her eyes narrowed and she gawked, swatting Stiles with the red bathing suit, "you haven't even-"

"No, Ally," Stiles hissed, "we hung out like once and we got lunch yesterday, it's not a big deal."

"You got lunch?" Allison hummed through a sheepish smile.

Stiles' cheeks heated and he swayed to knock her waist with his hip, "We shared a sandwich, whatever." 

They were wading through one of the many clothing stores on the ocean front, this one being called M T A. It was a local favorite and Allison frowned when she couldn't find her size in a neon yellow Brazilian with pink tassels. 

"That sounds kind of like a date," she eyed another bathing suit as Stiles stared at the ceiling, mouth wide open and eyes closed. "I thought you were strictly against dating," she added quietly, a coy smile pulling at her lips.

Stiles cracked his ankles and dangled a flip flop off of one foot, "It wasn't a date, it was a sandwich."

Allison did have one thing right- Stiles didn't date. He fondled and he played and he dabbled but he didn't date. Venice wasn't for dating, Venice was for wandering. He did that well and it paid off in the end. No strings, no knots, no scissors needed and that was far easier than attachment. The young man had his few month stints but in the end it was always the same line: 'This just isn't the place for me' or 'I want more for myself' sometimes he would even hear 'I've grown up over the summer'. Each and every time he laughed. 

"You like him," she purred.

Stiles heaved a sigh, "He doesn't talk enough."

"You like him," Allison pressed firmly.

Stiles shook his head and reached to scratch the back of his neck, "I don't even know him."

Allison just laughed at that point and modeled another bikini top which Stiles gave a two thumbs up to.

+

Kira was weird. 

In the best way.

She always wore dark lipstick and her eyelash extensions were like wings against her eyelids. She looped tiny silver chains around her neck and her nails were filed into long points. 

Kira was weird in the best way.

"I have this South American flying fox," she smiled wide, "it's mounted on the wall of my apartment and I bought him at a swap meet in San Francisco!" 

Scott was trying to smile but it looked forced and weak, "It's dead?"

"Yeah, it's dead," she nodded, blinking over to him and bouncing on the pointed heels of her black leather boots.

Stiles was chewing on his lip to keep from laughing and Scott lifted a brow, "That's really cool," he tested, chuckling when the girl beamed.

"I'm totally freaking you out, huh?" she pouted.

"No!" Scott assured, palms showing in mock surrender, "I mean, I'm just not used to it but it's cool! It's so cool, do you like, do you have skulls and-"

"Four!" Kira wiggled four fingers in the air, "I have four skulls, actually."

"You're adorable," Scott pushed out a breathy laugh.

Kira leaned against him as the three walked towards the beach and Stiles mentally scolded himself for looking forward to the bonfire for solely one reason. That reason was resting casually against the yellow bus in the parking lot with his hands shoved in his pockets. Stiles' lips were pursed into a thin line and he adjusted the striped beanie hanging loose off the back of his head, tugged at the blue tank top clinging to his shoulders and wondered if he looked stupid in such tight pants. 

Derek was wearing boardshorts and sandals.

Just boardshorts. Just sandals.

"Close your mouth," Scott mumbled when Stiles commanded his feet to keep moving even though his legs had stuttered over themselves.

The sun was low in the sky and the air was still hot and dry with the on-coming summer just weeks away. It was apparent that Derek was under the impression they were going swimming. Stiles was not going to complain.

"Hey," Stiles dragged the word out over his tongue and Derek nodded, "so, uh- you're going swimming I see?"

"It's hot, so yes," Derek wrinkled his nose, "you're not?"

"I'm Kira!" the girl squeaked from beside Scott and Derek extended a hand, warmly greeting her with a 'pleased to meet you' which seemed completely out of character for a guy so... uptight. 

Stiles wanted to growl at her.

But he settled for shifting and squaring his shoulders, contemplating over a good moment of chewing on his cheek before he blurted, "The water is probably really fucking cold."

Derek blinked, "Isn't that the point when it's hot?"

Scott gave a curt nod and Kira started to fumble with her heels. 

Stiles wasn’t left with much of a choice besides crawling into his bus and shoving his jeans down over his thighs. He could hear the three of them chatting outside before there was a loud knock on the back door and Scott flung the doors open. 

“We’re gonna leave our shit in here, yeah?” Scott threw his shirt in the corner and Kira set her clothes down neatly below the window. Stiles pulled the string of his shorts tight and glanced at Derek.

“You didn’t bring any clothes?” Stiles asked.

Derek gestured over his shoulder, “They’re in my car,” he answered plainly.

A black Camaro slept quietly a few spaces away and Stiles’ head lolled back so he could get a good look.

“Wow,” he snorted a laugh, “nice ride.”

The bartender didn’t respond, just shrugged and started walking towards the beach. 

Stiles and Scott gathered some towels from the front passenger seat and followed a few feet away, Kira fumbling to tie her violet bikini top on while she mumbled that the new guy was ‘a little strange.’ Stiles just laughed, Scott shook his head.

By the time Stiles had laid down his towel and shoved a joint in the toe of his vans, Derek was already out wading into the water. Scott was following, chasing Kira down the beach and pinching at her hips while she squealed and giggled. The sun was getting lower and he squinted against the broken light that fluttered off the tops of the small waves, took his time walking towards the shore and didn’t mind the sight of Derek’s back disappearing into the ocean. 

When the waves licked across the tops of his feet he hissed and as he walked forward a chill made its way from the back of his calf to the top of Stiles’ head. 

“Hey!” Stiles called, biting on a curse when the cold Pacific water washed up over his chest, “It is freezing!”

Derek smiled from a few feet away and shrugged, “A little bit, yeah.”

Stiles snarled.

“They don’t seem to mind it,” Derek waved a hand to Scott and Kira who were currently attached at the mouth down the beach a ways, floating in the water. 

“Are you saying we should make out because that’s all I got from that,” Stiles purred, only to be silenced by a splash of water to the face when Derek kicked at him. 

Stiles guessed that was a no.

But Derek was laughing, diving under and coming up to spit salty sea water in Stiles’ face. It was adorable in the most infuriating way and Stiles almost wanted to punch him as feverishly as he wanted to molest him. 

“So,” Stiles tested, kicking water back at Derek as they ducked under a wave.

“So,” Derek repeated.

“Excited for the bonfire tonight?” Stiles asked as he swam in circles and Derek followed behind.

“Excited is a colorful word-“

“Shut up,” Stiles laughed, splashing water at him again, “they’re my friends, you should feel honored.” 

Ivy eyes rolled in their sockets and Stiles couldn’t help but admire how bright they were in the sun.

There wasn’t much talking after that, only soft laughs and Derek humming when he took in each breath after breaking the surface. Stiles watched him as much as he could, felt his heart rate spike when their feet brushed and held his breath when Derek’s hands suddenly found purchase solid on his shoulders.

“What’s this?” he asked and Stiles glanced over his shoulder when strong thumbs rubbed over the tattoo of Anubis that snaked up the back of his neck and over onto his right bicep.

“Anubis, god of the underworld,” Stiles answered, eyeing Derek carefully as he let his hands slide down to curve of Stiles’ spine, “What’s yours mean?”

“It’s a triskele,” Derek shrugged, “family thing.”

“Any others?” Stiles asked, and Derek shook his head.

“Apparently,” Derek’s voice was playful and he laughed under his breath, “you have some more,” his fingers played on the edge of Stiles shorts where the line of another tattoo peaked out over his hips.

Stiles swatted at him, “Yes! I do, but, jeez, hey, hi-“ he backed up towards the shore, “buy a guy a drink first.”

Was this flirting? Were they flirting? Stiles had no fucking idea. But hell, Derek looked at him like he was something to be looked at and Stiles didn’t mind.

Scott and Kira were still out in the waves when Stiles and Derek plopped down on the towels. Sand was hiding between their toes and Stiles nudged Derek with his elbow when he reached into his shoe and pulled out the small joint, “Down?”

Derek shrugged before he nodded and Stiles sighed.

It was something less heavy then what they’d smoked before but Stiles still loved the way it burnt his throat on the way down and smiled when the smoke curled up around his nostrils on the exhale. 

“You like it here so far?” Stiles asked as Derek took a hit.

The man nodded, watched the sun float down and hide inside the sea, “I wanted to see beauty in its rawest form,” he paused, took another hit, and Stiles was entranced by the way the smoke curved over his cheeks, “I didn’t want something staged, I just wanted to know what life looked like. That’s why I came here.”

Stiles wasn’t going to pretend he understood because he didn’t. He didn’t at all.

“I’m glad you’re not disappointed,” Stiles shifted to look at him, palms set behind him as the sun left the sky to glow in its absence. He lifted his index finger, tapped the top of Derek’s hand to ask for the joint.

Derek looked over to him as he took another deep drag and Stiles held his breath when the man leaned forward, tried to control the pitter patter of his heart as salt-chapped lips sealed over his own. It didn’t start as a kiss, just a pass of sorts. Derek exhaled and Stiles inhaled and his lungs ached until he breathed out through his nose and mucked up enough courage to press forward. It did end as a kiss though, a hazy slow kiss that Stiles simply fell into- the soft pull of his bottom lip between Derek’s teeth, the soothe of a tongue against the roof of his mouth and then the sound, a hum, that led him to lift up off his hand and swing his leg over Derek’s lap.

Stiles didn’t quite know if it was invited until Derek’s hands were on his ass and he was being hauled down into the towels and the sand. 

It was surprising how gentle Derek was, how he didn’t shove or manhandle. He squeezed at Stiles’ hips, tilted his head left and then right as his lips worked slow and languid against Stiles’ mouth. He hummed softly, groaned deep and throaty when Stiles rolled down between his legs.

“You only like me when you’re high,” Stiles mumbled, biting down on the slope of Derek’s jaw.

“That isn’t true,” he frowned, turned and took Stiles’ mouth back in a firm kiss, “I just think you’re cocky and irritating.”

Stiles mouth fell open in mock offence, “Coming from the guy who won’t fucking speak unless he’s high,” he reiterated again. 

“I talk,” Derek said.

“You do not,” Stiles shook his head, hands set on either side of Derek’s shoulders, “and you’re moody.”

“Moody,” Derek repeated sarcastically and raised a brow.

“Yes, moody,” Stiles nodded.

It wasn’t what Stiles expected. He didn’t see this as their first kiss, didn’t see himself straddling Derek on the beach during the sunset like something out of a cheesy romantic comedy but he wasn’t complaining. Not when Derek was leaning back up and taking his lips in another fluid kiss, sandy hands smoothing up his ribcage to wrap around the back of his neck.

No, he wasn’t complaining.

Stiles felt his legs tremble underneath him, heard seagulls yell shrill and angry through the air above them. Derek tasted like smoke and rosemary, his hands felt solid and rough over Stiles' skin and the way he curled his tongue slow between their locked lips made Stiles' eyelids flutter. 

Derek was a good kisser. Patient and deep and wet. 

Stiles could've stayed there for hours.

But of course-

"Whoa, hey, uh," Scott was scratching the back of his head and Kira was adjusting herself in her bikini top, "so, yeah, kinda need the keys to your bus so we can get our clothes."

Stiles opened his eyes but kept his lips planted against Derek's until the man beneath him craned his neck to look up at the two.

"Thanks, man," Stiles seethed before sitting up with his knees on either side of Derek's waist, "couldn't have like grabbed them-"

Stiles pointed to the lanyard and the keys sitting on top of his vans only a foot or two away.

Scott shrugged.

Derek huffed.

Kira laughed.

Stiles sighed.

"It's getting late anyways, we need to get ready for the bonfire," Scott added innocently, "are you going home to change and stuff?"

Stiles wanted to kick his best friend in the shins but he nodded and poked Derek in the chest, "I'm gonna go take a shower and get ready. I'll see you at eight?"

Derek tilted his head to the side, hands still resting lazily on Stiles' hips, "Can I come?"

A blush frosted over the bridge of his nose and Stiles stammered out something between 'yeah' and 'okay' that ended up just being a sudden apology for how completely ridiculous he sounded. It wasn't necessarily the idea of Derek coming with them; it was the idea of Derek seeing how messy his tiny studio apartment was that had Stiles thrown.

God, when was the last time he did fucking laundry? Stiles didn't even know.

"You sure?" Derek asked, eyebrows knitting together.

Stiles stood and nodded again, "Yeah, I'm sure just, uh-" he cleared his throat, "my place is kind of thrashed so I hope you don't mind-"

"I don't," Derek interjected as he got to his feet and brushed the sand off the back of his legs. 

Stiles peeked at Scott who grinned back at him.

What the fuck.

+

Stiles fumbled with his keys as he jammed them below the doorknob, "Sorry, it just gets kinda stuck some-" he stumbled forward when the door swung open, "...times." 

Derek didn't wait for an invitation, just stepped over the little bamboo mat in front of the door and walked inside. 

The apartment was small, like most on the coast, on the first story in a complex that wasn't anything much to look at. There wasn't a couch, just a California King with black sheets and a white comforter. The pillows were askew and a flat screen TV was mounted on the opposite wall. He bought a coffee table off the people who lived in the apartment across from him before they moved and was impressed by the quality- a cherry wood finish with three matching chairs. 

There was a small kitchen, dishes in the sink, a dresser beside the bed overflowing with clothes and a basket of dirty laundry against the wall. The walls were bare but Stiles didn't mind and just to the left was the door to the joined bathroom. 

"Uh," Stiles shifted nervously as Derek glanced around, "so, I'm gonna hop in the shower, you can-" 

He inhaled a sharp breath when the man turned and took a few steps towards him, swayed back when Derek was suddenly pressed in his space, a lingering smile playing across his lips.

"Come?" Derek offered.

Stiles mouth was dry and he felt his stomach drop into his knees because the only answer to something like that was of fucking course.

He didn't answer though, instead he leaned forward and crushed their lips together because if this was happening, it was happening. Derek said something but the words came out slurred and muffled by the soft swipe of Stiles' tongue across his lips. They stumbled- backwards and then forwards until the backs of Derek's knees were hitting the edge of Stiles' bed.

There was a moment of hesitation while Stiles stayed upright with his lips dangling just away from Derek's when he cracked his eyes open and looked forward, found bits of the sun hidden away in Derek's eyes and stayed there.

"Is this okay?" Derek's voice cracked.

Stiles inhaled the sweet scent of sunscreen on his cheek and exhaled a warm breath, reached out and wrapped his hand around Derek's wrist before he took a few steps backwards towards the bathroom, "If we get in that bed we'll never leave," he assured quietly. 

Derek nodded. He fucking nodded. And that sense of agreement was what had Stiles clawing at Derek's shoulders when he shoved the man against the wall, had him moaning into his mouth and grinding his hips against the warmth of Derek's waist.

"Is this-" Derek gasped when Stiles reached down and dug his nails into his hips, "okay?" he repeated.

No. No, it wasn't okay, nothing about it was okay because Derek was beautiful and warm and he felt different in Stiles' hands. 

But Stiles let his lips drip down the thick scruff of Derek's cheek and latched his mouth below the man’s ear, soothed his tongue against his throat and scraped his teeth along the thick tendon that ran alongside his Adams apple.

Derek's hand flittered up the knobs of Stiles' spine and he wound his fingers into his hair, pressed down and encouraged him to bite, to gnaw and suck and bruise. His head lolled to the side and Stiles could feel him breathing, heard him choke on a gasp  
when their hips rolled lazily against each other.

Stiles never did answer the question. 

He just reached for Derek's free hand, laced their fingers together and slammed it above his head.

"C'mere, Stiles- come," Derek's voice broke and Stiles lifted his head, eyed the darkening bruise that was just starting to bloom against his flesh, "...here." 

Derek exhaled, long and slow as Stiles just stopped- just stopped and stared at him for a moment while his fingers gripped through the slots in Derek's hand. The apartment was quiet besides the sound of his own lungs wheezing and the runaway solo of his heart beating rhythmically behind his ribcage.

Stiles let go of his hand so he could lean over and twist the knob of the shower.

He licked over his lips when Derek dipped his thumbs in the waist band of Stiles' shorts.

Things never went like this. It was always quick and wonderful and easy. 

This.

Derek.

This was slow and terrifying and deliberate.

But Stiles leaned forward and found Derek's lips again, drew back only to tug his board shorts down and to rid Derek of his own before they stumbled sideways into the tub. The water was too warm and Stiles flinched when it scalded his skin, "Fuck, sorry," he sighed as he turned to twist the knob.

Derek's hands curled around him and Stiles felt the man’s chest against his back just moments before steady fingers wrapped firm and tight around his cock.

The back of Stiles' head leaned into Derek's shoulder as the water from the shower head sprayed down over them and Stiles sucked in a sharp breath, "Not fair," he whispered, hoarse and low, grinding back along the hard cock nestled against his ass, "I can't get to you."

A soft hum was all he got in response as Derek mouthed at his neck, gracing him with long slow strokes and the occasional flick of his thumb. Stiles' hips stuttered, back arched and he whined at the press of Derek's teeth on his shoulder, encouraged him with little circles of his hips when his pace slowed. 

When Stiles came he didn't say a word, just inhaled deep and sharp- a gasp that Derek appreciated through the soft huff of a laugh. 

"Don't laugh at me, asshole," Stiles hissed, turning to face Derek before he dropped to his knees.

Green eyes widened and Derek tripped over his words, "Y-you, Stiles, you don't have to-"

He bit down on his lip when Stiles' mouth wrapped around his cock and he looked up at him through dark lashes.

It didn't last long and Derek tried his best to give a warning but Stiles didn't mind- the shower washed whatever was left along the side of his mouth anyways.

Derek was trying to catch his breath when Stiles stood back up and reached for a bar of minty soap, "I've wanted to suck your dick since you served me tea."

Stiles grinned when Derek rolled his eyes.

+

"Guys!" a very welcoming voice shouted from across the dark beach and Stiles turned to face the direction it came from, "Down here!"

The moon was high in the sky and a few stars blinked to life against the sheet of black that melted into the sea. Derek walked beside him, their fingertips bumping after every few steps they took until the sound of friendly voices became clearer and the light of a small fire guided them to a pit surrounded with blankets, towels and chairs. 

It was Lydia who had been calling them and she spun in a delicate circle at the sight of them. Her short frilled dress tapped against her thighs and deep red lips curved into a grin when Stiles leaned in to hug her, "Hey Lyd's," he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and turned, "this is Derek."

"Derek," she repeated and extended a hand which he took gently in his own, "Allison has told me about you, it's nice to finally put a face to the words, I'm Lydia."

"Pleasures all mine," Derek offered pleasantly, eyes flicking around her face where both nostrils were pierced, down past her exposed collarbones which also harbored small jewels. She reached up and gathered the long bundle of strawberry-blonde dreads into her hands, played absently with a trail of beads tied through one of them and gestured for them to sit. 

Allison was chatting with Kira who excitedly rambled about a haunted asylum in a city just south of L.A and Scott rested quietly between her legs. He pinched her toes and she swatted him playfully. Another two sat on a blanket just beside them.

"Hey," Stiles gave an all-around greeting and Derek followed suite, "how's everyone doin'?"

"Hey, Stiles," Kira was always sweet and bounced slightly in her seat, "and Derek, took you long enough."

Scott cleared his throat.

It was dark and no one could see Stiles blush against the light of the fire. Especially as Derek leaned his leg slightly against his own.

"So two new guys," another voice piped from beside Scott, "I've met Kira but I haven't had the chance to meet- Derek, right?"

"Yeah," Derek answered, "that's me."

"I'm Isaac," he leaned up on his elbows, sandy blonde locks curling over the tops of his ears, "this is my boyfriend Jackson."

The young man next to him raised a hand and blinked bright blue eyes at Derek from the other side of the fire. He had high cheek bones and a full mouth, smooth sun kissed skin and a ring through his right brow. 

"Nice to meet you," Jackson said.

Derek narrowed his eyes for a moment and his lips pursed before they fell open, "Jackson... Jackson Whittemore?"

"Yes," Jackson answered as Isaac chuckled beside him, "I met Isaac at a surf competition about a year ago down in Malibu and followed him back here."

Stiles sighed, "Yep, mister professional decided to run around with us low lives- even bought a damn water front apartment just a few blocks away." 

"He couldn't stay away," Isaac sang playfully as he looked to the man next to him. Jackson just rolled his eyes and nodded, bit down gently on Isaac's wrist and shuffled closer to the fire.

The waves were relaxed and pliant as they brushed along the sand and the fire cracked and popped warmly against the nearing summer air. Stiles wanted nothing more than to rest his hands on Derek again, to press closer and drape himself across the newcomers lap but his fingers trembled nervously and he decided to fidget instead.

"So," Lydia reached over to Allison who had stood and grabbed a beer from the ice chest, "has anyone heard from Erica and Boyd?" The woman wrapped her hands around Allison's hips and pulled her down to sit comfortably in her lap.

Ah, the wonder couple.

"They're doing fine," Stiles assured, fumbling with his keys for a bottle opener, "apparently Boyd convinced her to eat some kind of beetle or some shit outside Shanghai."

Stiles finally popped open the orange citrus beer and Derek arched a brow, "Shanghai?"

"Yeah," Scott interjected, fingers carding through Kira's hair, "they're backpacking through China."

Allison wrinkled her nose, "Oh god, I can only imagine Erica eating an insect," she stuck her tongue out in mock disgust, "that girl wouldn't even eat cheese she was so against animal products." 

The conversation picked up from there and Stiles found himself lost in memories of his first few months in Venice. From meeting Boyd at the shore shack to getting the job at the clinic. It was Boyd who introduced him to Scott and Scott who introduced him to everyone else. After that everything started to fall together. 

Allison and Lydia went steady, Isaac met Jackson, Boyd flew Erica out from Florida and Scott continued to be Stiles' wing man at every social gathering there was. From drunken mishaps to relationships gone wrong and everything in-between. They lived the life that every group of wayward friends wanted to live- an endless summer.

Jackson was choking on laughter when he took a hit off a slim, neatly rolled joint, "Remember the time Scott almost got arrested for assaulting that girl in the dressing room at the hat shop?" 

Stiles was next to start to choke on the beer he had tipped against his lips and his eyes started to water when he tried to catch his breath, "I almost had to bail you out of jail you fucker!" 

Scott was laughing, open mouthed and unashamed at the sky, "Her mom wasn't a fan of me so when she opened the door Heather just yelled 'get out, what are you doing in here!' and I just kind of ran because what else was I supposed to do, ya know?"

Kira shook with soft laughter of her own.

The night was easy and patient with them, just as it always was. Stiles took the joint from Jackson and as he inhaled slow and smooth he felt a hand rest just above the small of his back. Butterscotch eyes flicked up to Derek who wasn't shy about wrapping his arm gently around Stiles' waist. 

This was the point in the night where Stiles would usually laugh and squirm away, where he would say 'hey bro, hit this' and hold up the joint as a distraction so he could put distance between them.

But instead he lifted the joint back to his lips and took another steady inhale, leaned forward and blew the smoke between Derek's lips.

+

June usually crawled by and curled up into July without any complaint. Spring tended to fold in on itself and let summer blaze through into October, but this year June ran itself into July like a bullet train and Stiles wanted nothing more than to slow down the clock.

"Jesus, when the fuck did it become red, white and blue season?" Stiles hissed as a group of tourists walked by with boxes of baby fireworks. 

Lydia was holding his hand, the long drape of her sleeves brushing over his wrist as she crowded close to him, "Well, fourth of July is like, tomorrow so...?" she arched a brow and he rolled his eyes.

"What're we doing anyways?" Stiles asked, tugging his friend to the left when a few bicyclists sped by.

She shrugged, "I think Jackson's doing something over at his place, Allison and I were gonna head down there. Everyone will be launching mortars over the water and we can watch from his patio." 

That wasn't too bad of an idea, honestly. 

"You should bring Derek," Lydia added, a wry smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Stiles rolled his eyes, "I'm sure Allison has already mentioned it to him."

"But you guys should go, like, together," Lydia winked and Stiles groaned.

"We are not to-ge-ther," Stiles waved his free hand as they dodged a funnel cake truck and rounded the corner towards the front of The Sidewalk Cafe. 

"Oh c'mon, Stiles!" Lydia shoved her shoulder at him, "Remember when me and Allison played the 'casual' game?" 

Stiles didn't answer due to the waist high gate clattering behind them as they walked in and also due to the two familiar faces currently busy with the lunch crowd. 

Allison was chatting with a group of four towards the inside of the patio and Derek threw an open-mouthed grin over his shoulder to the folks thanking him for getting their drinks out. It was always nice to sit back and watch them work, for Lydia it was a show of sorts- Allison was bubbly and all smiles. For Stiles it was a reminder that Derek was far too good to grow roots behind a dingy little bar top in a cafe on Venice board walk. 

Lydia tugged him over to a small table and before they could even sit down Allison was at their side, "Hey, hi, hello," she stammered out, obviously busy with a crowded restaurant, "uhm, just give me a minute guys and then I'll come over and take your order, we're slammed right now-"

"Don't worry, babe," the red head was tying her bundle of dreads back in a loose bun, "take your time, Stiles is off for the day and my next appointment isn't until five."

The brunette leaned down to peck Lydia chastely on the lips before she rushed off to grab two arm-full's of plates. 

Lydia's tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth and she frowned across the table to Stiles who was sipping on a glass of water.

"What's a matter?" he asked, pressing his elbows to the table top so he could rest his chin over folded hands.

She sighed and played with one of the bulky crystal rings on her middle finger, "She just works so much," Lydia whined, "I wish she'd give herself a break. I bring in enough at the salon to cover most of our expenses, she could just work here and pay the car payment and we'd be fine."

"Have you told her that?" Stiles asked quietly when Allison darted by to another table.

Lydia nodded and bit down on her lip.

Relationships. Relationship problems. It was always the same and Stiles was glad he didn't have to deal with the issues that came along with commitment. He loved his friends and was happy for each and every one of them but this- Lydia's down cast eyes and her constant nervous fiddling was exactly why he steered clear of anything involving labels or shitty terminology. Unofficial was good enough for him.

A warm hand fell over his shoulder and Stiles looked up to find Derek passing by, "Hey," he greeted warmly, giving Stiles' a soft squeeze before he kept walking with a stack of dirty glasses.

Stiles gave a two finger wave and felt Lydia's open toed sandal kick him in the shin.

"What?" Stiles seethed playfully when he turned to see her grinning back at him.

"You're happy with him," she pointed out.

Stiles tried to hide the way a blush moved quickly across the tops of his cheeks.

"I'm happy with my life," Stiles corrected.

"You're happy that he's in it," Lydia countered as Allison walked up and pushed a deep sigh over her lips.

They ordered their food.

Lydia didn't say anything about it after that.

But Stiles chewed on her words over their salads and tea, dissected their meaning and wanted to punch himself when Derek walked back over and asked him to come over for drinks that night.

Stiles immediately said yes.

Lydia laughed. 

+

Derek had a little one story house down the road. It was in a neighborhood across from a Chevron station and a majority of the homes were lined in cute fences and sported bicycles like ornaments leaning against their garages. 

Stiles had his hands shoved in the pockets of his torn up jeans and he turned the corner around the wood fence that guarded Derek's small lawn to skip up a set of three stairs. The Camaro was slumbering peacefully in the driveway and a little silver wind chime dangled next to the front door.

Stiles chewed on his bottom lip. Knocked once. Knocked twice.

The door swung open and Stiles' eyes widened when he saw Derek holding the door open with his ankle- a wooden spoon clasped between his teeth and a bowl of cut fruit in his arms. 

"You're making food?" Stiles asked, brow arched as he stepped inside and kicked off his sandals.

Derek didn't answer at first, just walked through the living room and into the kitchen, "Yes," he called, "I was hungry, figured you would be too."

Dinner. Date. Red flag. Oh, the reddest of red flag to have ever been fucking flown.

But.

"Oh, thanks," the words slipped out before Stiles could catch them and he swallowed, tight and dry when he looked over to the island where a couple plates of seasoned chicken breasts paired with vegetables were out and ready. 

What he should have said is- 'thanks bro but I'm good' or 'I actually ate just before I got here!' Stiles should have lied like he always did. He should have stuck to the plan. The plan that always kept him from getting hurt and always kept him from getting claimed.

"You okay?" 

Derek's voice pulled him out of the expression he was wearing. The worn down worry of clenched brows and a slack mouth.

"I'm-" Stiles closed his eyes as soon as Derek leaned forward and stole the words from him. It was a soft kiss, gentle and quick, but it left Stiles wondering why exactly he hadn't stopped this already. Why his heart was dropping so suddenly into his knee caps and why he felt wanted and good at the sight of someone cooking him dinner, "...fine," Stiles breathed against Derek's mouth.

Derek didn't smile much- well, not genuinely at least, so the rare moments when his lips pulled up just slightly at the edges and his eyes creased at the end of his lash line always threw Stiles off.

Everything about this guy threw Stiles off.

"Do you wanna eat outside or," Derek gestured to the breakfast nook next to the window.

Stiles shrugged, "Doesn't matter to me."

A large hand pressed lightly against Stiles' lower back and Derek gestured towards the sliding glass door that led to a small back yard.

Stiles grabbed the plates off the island and Derek fished in the fridge for two Shock Tops.

"So," Stiles started, chewing over his words as they sat down, "what's this whole," he waved his hands around the food, "dinner thing for?"

Ah, yes. Stiles. The smoothest guy in the world.

Derek arched a brow, "I thought I'd cook for you."

"But why?" Stiles asked, taking a bite off the chicken on his plate.

"Someone’s an ungrateful little shit," Derek hissed, a blush brimming over the bridge of his nose.

Stiles laughed softly, "Just curious, man."

It was quiet and Stiles almost flinched at how loud his fork sounded clanking through the vegetables.

"I just thought it'd be nice since we've been fucking for two weeks," Derek purred, taking a sip off his beer.

Stiles choked.

Derek smirked.

"So, is this like..." Stiles fished for a word. For something.

"A date?" Derek finished.

Stiles nodded.

"Yes," the bartender answered quickly. 

The way Derek answered was so easy and calm. It made Stiles want to scream and stomp and blush and tremble because fuck this. Fuck. This. Fuck everything that has to do with this and with Derek and with dating him because fuck.

Fuck.

He liked it.

Stiles one hundred percent liked dating Derek Hale. 

Derek cleared his throat, "Unless you'd rather call it off, I'd understand-"

"You're wonderful," Stiles interjected as he stuffed a piece of asparagus in his mouth, "and you're hot and scary and I hate that I'm totally into you."

"That was honest," Derek mumbled, eyebrows rising as his jaw clenched.

"You're a really good cook," Stiles said as he stared down at his plate.

"Way to change the subject," Derek bit.

Fuck.

Stiles' fork clattered against the plate and leaned back in his chair, head tilted back, eyes on the ceiling because fuck this and fuck him and god dammit.

His heart was hammering in his chest and Stiles wanted nothing more than to try and explain his way out of it, to ramble about bad relationship this and dating sucks that but nothing made sense. Not a damn bit of it.

"I don't do this," Stiles sighed, hand shooting between him and Derek, "I don't do this whole dating thing because it never works out. People get bored. People move on. It happens and I totally get that and you-" he swallowed, shaky and hollow as molten eyes turned back to look at Derek who was staring right back, "you are way too fucking good for me and for this town and I know that."

Derek said nothing and Stiles couldn't stop talking.

"You're kind of a dick, sure," Stiles laughed desperately and Derek pursed his lips, "but you're also really cool and you're like twenty-eight and you have plans and goals and dreams. I mean c'mon, man," Stiles gestured to himself, "I'm just a beach bum."

Stiles inhaled after that. Took a long breath and waited for Derek to say 'well we can just be friends' or more likely 'fine, fuck off.' He waited and pushed the food around on his plate.

But Derek huffed and scooted forward, gripped the sides of Stiles' chair and turned it to face him. 

"Stiles," Derek tested, poking him hard in the sternum, "this house? It's not a rental. I bought it. My mortgage is not debatable. And my job? I'm a fucking bartender; my goal is to be a mixologist which I'm looking forward to doing at any of the clubs or bars in the fifteen mile radius around the house that I bought."

Stiles blinked.

"I'm not going anywhere," Derek said, "and I like you even though you're an annoying beach bum."

Well, fuck.

"I'm not annoying," Stiles countered.

Derek rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair, "Eat your fucking dinner."

"So what are you like my hot older boyfriend or-"

"Eat," Derek groaned, "Shut up and eat."

Stiles hated this. He hated it and he wanted nothing to do with it.

A warm hand reached over and smoothed over the top of Stiles' thigh.

Okay, so maybe he didn't hate it.

"How was your day?" Derek asked through a small smile.

Stiles sighed.

"It was good," he answered, reaching down to lace his fingers around Derek's knuckles.

He thoroughly enjoyed this.

+

It was seven thirty when Stiles woke up in Derek's bed. The morning light was pouring in through the blinds and he could hear a bird singing just outside. The space next to him was empty and when he opened his eyes and reached across the bed the sheets were cold and Derek's phone wasn't charging on the nightstand where it had been and the house was quiet enough for Stiles to guess that he was alone. 

He pawed at his eyes with the back of his hands, stretched and curled his toes, listened to his ankles crack when he twisted them. He cursed, rolled over and reached down to find his jeans so he could fish his phone out of his pocket.

The sound of the door opening and closing interrupted him followed by Derek's footsteps as he made his way through the house and back into the bedroom.

Stiles blinked sleepily, "Morning."

"Hey," Derek answered, chest heaving as he carded his fingers through damp hair. 

Apparently Derek liked to run in the mornings. 

There was sheen of sweat that covered his torso and Stiles arched a brow when Derek bent over to untie his shoes and kick them off. 

"When do you have work?" Derek asked, turning to look over his shoulder at Stiles.

"Noon," Stiles answered, sitting up with his hands in his lap.

Derek asked if Stiles wanted to get breakfast and Stiles shook his head with a smile.

Derek frowned.

"I'm hungry, though," he pointed out.

Stiles nodded through another smile and crawled towards the edge of the bed, hand out stretched to tug on the waist band of Derek's gym shorts. 

"I'm sweaty and gross," Derek mumbled, stepping forward as Stiles wrapped his hands up over his hips and sat up on his knees.

"I don't care," Stiles pressed the words into Derek's chest, ran his mouth up over the man’s clavicle and sucked gently on the bottom of his neck. His hands stayed put on his hips, thumbs rubbing circles to the left and right of his belly button. 

"You should care," Derek leaned into the touch, closed his eyes when Stiles' hands moved up to wrap around him.

"You should come back to bed and we should smoke," Stiles offered, moving to take Derek's lips in a lazy kiss.

There was no fight and Derek obviously didn't need convincing because as he kissed back, slack and gentle, he lifted his knees up on the bed and leaned into Stiles, caught him when he almost fall back into the pile of sheets. 

Stiles sucked in a breath between their lips and pulled Derek down when he scooted back on to the mattress, “Drawer?” 

“Yeah, indica okay?” Derek reached over and dug through the night stand.

“What’s it called?” Stiles asked as he propped himself up on his elbows.

Derek fiddled with a tiny light green glass blown pipe before he grabbed the lighter, “Halo.”

“Never tried it,” Stiles commented, watching as Derek took a deep hit and help his breath.

Derek looked good like that. Relaxed. Half-naked. Straddling Stiles with a pipe in his hand.

Sometimes Stiles wondered if his life was even real or if he was going to wake up one morning back at home with his Dad contemplating law school. 

Derek passed him the pipe, and then the lighter. When Stiles inhaled slow and steady he felt the buzz of smoke in his lungs accompanied by hands playing up and down his sides. Amber eyes fluttered shut, “Shit, babe,” he mused, breath catching as Derek bit down on his collar bone.

He hadn’t realized he’d said it until Derek chuckled.

“Babe?” Derek teased.

Stiles squirmed as he took another hit, “Shut-“ he coughed, “shut up.”

Derek snatched the pipe and milked the last bit of smoke that it had to offer before he set it back down on the night stand and brought his attention back to the lean young man beneath him.

Fuck. Stiles needed to slow the fuck down because pet names? Yeah, pet names were not happening.

His mind folded in on itself, sparked and crackled. He felt weighted and vulnerable, like his skin was heavy against his bones and his heart was beating fast enough to hear. Derek said something along the lines of ‘do you wanna’ and Stiles swallowed the words in a bruising kiss that only ended up being pulled away from him and placed in a line down his body.

Derek made him squirm and arch, sank his teeth into one of Stiles’ nipples, chewed on his rib cage and sucked hard across his torso. He left blooming marks just below his belly button, half-moon bites decorated Stiles’ hip bones and by the time Derek was at his thighs Stiles was lifting himself off the bed and clawing breathlessly at the sheets.

It might have been the weed, the added intimacy of all his focus being on Derek and the way the man seemed to fawn over every inch of his body.

This wasn’t fucking and that alone was foreign to Stiles.

“Der, what,” Stiles gasped, reached back and gripped the iron bars of the head board, “I’m not made of glass we established this last night, just-“

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek gave his inner thigh another open mouthed kiss.

Stiles gritted his teeth, felt Derek’s lips wet and hot between his legs, “You’re beautiful,” Derek sighed.

“Don’t-“ Stiles whined, abdomen clenching against the rough press of Derek’s stubble, “say shit like that.”

Derek’s eyes were like jungles against the soft hue of red that stained the area around his iris. He lifted himself up to look down at Stiles who shied away from his gaze but Derek gripped his chin and pulled his face gently, “What’s wrong with you?” Derek asked through a laugh.

Stiles pursed his lips.

“Do you even look in the mirror?” Derek tilted his head to the side, grinded his waist down between Stiles’ legs.

“Yes,” Stiles’ answered, choking on a soft gasp, “frequently to be honest.”

“Then let me tell you what I see,” Derek pressed a kiss just shy of Stiles’ ear, down to the concave of his throat and back between his collar bones. The tip of his tongue traced the outline of the tattoo that just barely dripped over his shoulder and one hand reached down to rub gingerly over the other that ran down his hip and on to his thigh. “What’s this one again?” Derek whispered, tapping against his leg.

Stiles’ eyes were closed and his nerves were vibrating against his skin, “It’s, uh,” he swallowed, “it’s Horus.” 

“Horus,” Derek repeated, lifting his hand back up to cradle Stiles’ face. 

When Derek grinded back down Stiles hissed, “You’re still wearing clothes, why the hell are you still wearing clothes?” 

Long bony fingers fumbled at Derek’s waist band and Stiles kicked his feet up to help push them all the way down until they fell to the floor at the foot of the bed.

The way Derek held Stiles’ face was enough to make him bite down on his lip, hoist his waist up and beg for some kind of connection. A physical connection. Because this emotional bullshit was starting to make his heart beat out of line and his hands shake. 

Derek’s index finger played at Stiles’ bottom lip until his mouth opened and Stiles’ swirled his tongue around the digit, sucked and stroked until it was withdrawn, “I love this,” Derek said, pushing his finger down between Stiles’ legs.

“Love what?” Stiles whimpered when the tip of Derek’s finger pressed against him.

“Your mouth,” he answered, “your ass, your hands…” Derek trailed off when he pushed in, curled his finger and felt the tight heat of Stiles wrapped around him. 

Stiles clawed at Derek’s back and rolled his hips, begged with quiet little movements for more because he was too prideful to actually ask. But Derek got the hint and moments later was reaching into the night stand and rolling a condom on. 

“Not a lot,” Stiles blurted when Derek grabbed the lube, “I’m good from last night, I’ll be okay.”

Derek eyed him carefully and nodded, only using a tad bit to ready himself. He slicked his cock and gripped Stiles’ hip when he tried to turn over, “I wanna see you,” Derek was quiet as he settled between Stiles’ thighs.

They had never faced each other before. They’d been screwing for a couple weeks and Stiles always insisted on back to front positions. Quick. Easy. No focal point. 

But he wasn’t going to try and correct Derek this time. Not when his mind felt like it was living inside a strike of lightening and his hands were coiled around Derek’s arms. It was a stretch, a burn when Derek finally pushed in, felt the splitting heat of Stiles clench around him and he gripped the sheets beside Stiles’ head, “Are you okay?”

Stiles didn’t answer until Derek repeated the question and he nodded furiously, “I’m good, just-“ he bucked his hips and Derek choked, “fuck, just fuck me.”

Even though their words were quiet they held a weight that Stiles felt like bricks on his chest.

Derek kissed him, pried at his lips and dipped his tongue between them to taste the smoke that still lingered in Stiles’ mouth. He gripped Stiles’ hips, dug his nails in the soft flesh that was pulled tight over toned muscle and listened to the way Stiles fell apart.

And Stiles hated that he was falling apart.

He said Derek’s name, fisted his hand in his hair and left a long row of scrapes down his back. It wasn’t slow but it wasn’t hard, a steady pace that had Stiles teetering on the edge, dancing along the line of oblivion and complete internal implosion. His cock was trapped between their two bodies and when Derek gripped the back of his thigh and lifted his leg higher Stiles buried his face in the space where his shoulder met his throat.

It felt good to have someone pressed against him, around him, inside him. It felt like everything for once had slowed down just enough to make sense and Stiles writhed when Derek made soft weak sounds against his ear.

Stiles came first, hot and sudden with the sound of Derek’s name cut short on his lips. 

Derek wasn’t far behind- he dug his nails into Stiles’ thigh, kissed him hard on the mouth and the sound he made, low and soft sent shivers down Stiles’ spine.

The morning was hazy with left over smoke and Derek’s breathing was even and shallow as he lifted himself off to keep from crushing the man beneath him.

Light amber eyes were closed; Stiles’ lips kiss-bitten and swollen fell slack as he fought to catch his breath. His body was alive with aftershocks of pleasure, spikes that made their way from the bottom of his foot into his kneecaps. They pinched at his sides, shook his elbows and disassembled his ribcage.

Stiles had been derailed.

Derek’s hand moved slow, fingertips trailing up Stiles’ stomach to his chest. Stiles knew he could feel the way he still trembled and it made him turn away and hide his face. Too much. Not enough. His leg twitched and Derek pressed closer, large strong hands turning and moving Stiles where he wanted him.

It would have been stupid to put up a fight, to squirm or cuss or say ‘how dare you make me fucking feel something’ because Stiles knew it was over. He was in deep. 

“Stiles,” Derek said his name and his voice was raspy and worn, “come on.”

Stiles turned and curled around him, held Derek’s face and tucked his knee between the man’s legs. He tried to breathe, ignored the slick stick of their bodies sliding through sweat and come and spit. Their mouths lolled together, short lazy kisses that Stiles never did indulge in after sex because he was always too busy getting dressed.

But this.

Just the simplicity of holding and behind held made him want nothing more than to fall back asleep and make a home out of Derek’s bed.

That easy little passing thought scared Stiles more than anything else.  
“It’s the fourth of July,” Derek purred hoarsely between Stiles’ lips.

Stiles smiled.

Fireworks.

+

“Dude,” Scott poked Stiles in the chest, “do you like ‘em or what?” 

“What?” Stiles flinched, rubbed at his eyes and straightened up behind the counter. The shop was pleasantly air conditioned and Scott blinked at him as The Wombats played over the speakers. 

Scott pointed at his face and Stiles lips pulled down in a mock grimace.

“Did that hurt…? That looks like it hurt, damn,” Stiles squinted at the two dainty silver spheres tucked into Scott’s cheeks.

“A pinch like always but seriously, bro-“ Scott narrowed his eyes and his lips pulled into a tight line, “does it look dumb or would you-“

Stiles nodded, “They don’t look bad. Kinda cute.”

Scott grinned, all bright teeth and cunning, “Kira kind of guessed so I told her.”

Stiles was filing a few papers behind the counter and glanced up, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

“About us,” Scott clarified.

Stiles laughed, “It wasn’t a big deal, Scott,” he shrugged and typed a few things into the computer, “you were curious, I was new, we had our fun and we stayed friends. Why’d you feel the need to tell Kira?”

He didn’t want to admit that Scott bringing up their past was a bit off-putting. He chewed on his bottom lip and watched the screen on the desktop instead of his friend. Put his eyes anywhere else.

“She asked if I’d ever been with guys and I told her just one,” Scott was quiet, “she asked who and I said you,” he swallowed and Stiles could hear it over the music, “are you okay with me, like, telling her? I know it’s dead and buried but I just-“

“It’s fine,” Stiles piped, “it’s been years. She cool with it?”

“If she wasn’t she wouldn’t be my girlfriend,” Scott answered all too clearly.

“Girlfriend?” Stiles hummed, flicking a brow up and smiling to Scott who grinned back, “You guys made it official?”

“Yep,” Scott sighed and nodded, “What about you and Derek, how is that going?”

“It’s, uh, it’s going. We had dinner and I stayed at his place last night,” Stiles answered, wanting more than anything for the conversation to end. Because Scott was staring at him and Stiles knew that he was waiting for the crack, the fumble, the ‘yep, this got to me’ so that he could give Stiles another speech about how important their friendship was and how he would do anything to keep it.

Scott was his best friend and Stiles would never want to give it up. 

Not even after his first summer in Venice.

“You stayed…? Like spent the night stayed?” Scott asked, adding an exaggerated gasp.

Stiles smirked, “Yeah.” 

His answer was short but the solidity of it was a bullet and when Stiles looked up Scott was staring back at him and the softness of his smile made his stomach twist. They watched each other, the depth of Scott’s eyes piecing together the uncomfortable air that twisted and turned around the two of them. Stiles blinked, broke away and fiddled with a wooden bracelet looped around his wrist.

“I’ll see you tonight, right? You and Derek?”

“Yeah, you’ll see us,” Stiles answered, forcing a smile when he looked back up.

Scott tapped the counter before he left and made a sly comment over his shoulder about he how never thought the two of them could be domesticated.

Stiles laughed and bit down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood because Scott had just walked right in and been a bitter reminder of how quickly the best things can go up in smoke.

+

Lydia answered the phone on the first ring.

“Yeah, baby,” she sang.

Stiles sighed, a cigarette pinched between his lips as he stood on his break in back of the clinic.

“Lyds,” he breathed and could hear Lydia immediately asking what was wrong on the other end.

“I just… I don’t know what to do. Derek is too good… He’s like the best thing that I’ve ever had besides-“

“Stop. Do not say Scott. If you say Scott I will march my ass down there-“

“Lydia,” Stiles snapped, “just… tell me Derek isn’t too good for me.”

“You’re so stupid. Derek isn’t too good for you, you idiot. But he is good for you.”

“Okay,” Stiles licked over his lips as he pressed the phone harder against his ear.

“Okay?” Lydia hissed.

“Yeah, yeah okay, thank you.”

“Bye, Stiles.”

“Bye babe.”

+

Derek was wearing a light grey tank top and blue jeans with combat boots. He put his hands on Stiles’ waist when he walked up, backed them up against the door of the VW bus and hummed, “Hello.”

Stiles grabbed his face with both hands, pulled him down and crushed their lips together. He felt Derek’s teeth clank against his own and winced into the kiss, pulling away only briefly to mumble an apology. Derek laughed and leaned in to press another firm kiss against Stiles’ lips, “You okay?”

“Yeah, yes… I’m just excited for tonight, that’s all,” Stiles stumbled over his words and rubbed his fingers timidly against Derek’s forearm.

“How was work?”

Stiles swallowed, “Uh, boring- yeah, it’s always pretty boring.”

Derek tilted his head to the side but he said nothing, deep green eyes staring at Stiles over the rim of his glasses. Stiles looked back, as honestly as he could, and wondered if this man- this fucking guy who had his shit together could actually want something serious with him. 

“I just need to take my medicine and then we can go,” Derek said.

Stiles nodded.

He’d seen Derek pull his magic bag of whatever-the-fuck out before. The first time it happened he was completely thrown off by the sheer quantity of supplements, vitamins and prescriptions the guy had. That night he did some research on glaucoma and found out why. It was sad to see someone so incredible silently crippled by something that could and probably would eventually steal his sight. Stiles couldn’t even imagine a reality so morbid.

But Derek didn’t seem to mind and as he walked over to the Camaro and slid inside Stiles couldn’t help but be amazed at how easy the man made it seem. He took three vitamins and a few other pills that Stiles couldn’t decipher and wouldn’t ask about, just tossed them into his mouth all at once and washed them down with a warm bottle of Gatorade.

“You good?” Stiles asked from the passenger seat.

Derek nodded.

They were walking through Jackson’s door fifteen minutes later and the small beach-side apartment was already packed with people. Most of the people weren’t familiar to Stiles and he brushed past them with Derek’s hand in his own. They weaved through the crowd until Derek spotted Allison sitting on the couch next to Lydia and Kira. Isaac was on the Patio with Jackson and Scott was in the kitchen grabbing drinks.

“Hey!” Kira waved to the two of them and scooted over to make room, “What’s up guys?”

Derek sat down and Stiles didn’t hesitate to make himself comfortable on his lap.

“Jesus, how many people did those two invite?” Stiles had to raise his voice over the music pumping loud through the speakers in the corners of the room.

“Who knows,” Allison called, hand resting lightly on Lydia’s thigh, “you know how they are. Isaac knows everyone on the beach and Jackson knows everyone in the water.”

Stiles nodded and leaned back into Derek’s chest when he felt a hand press gently against his abdomen.

“Thanks, baby!” Kira reached out and took the beer Scott had extended to her before she stood and let him shuffle by to sit on the couch so she could take a seat on his thighs.

Scott took a sip off his beer, “Hey guys,” he smiled.

A few minutes went by and as Scott chatted with Derek about his previous piercings Stiles found himself engaged with the girls about the new set up for the freak show. Kira was self-conscious about a few of the things they’d pitched to her but when Stiles got a good listen he assured that she had nothing to worry about. A little bit of acrobats were never boring when paired with swallowing swords and flames. She appreciated the support and gave a gentle smile when he told her how great she was going to be.

“You’ll come, won’t you?” she asked, eyes lined in dark black charcoal and silver glitter blinked shyly, “Come and see the show?”

Stiles nodded, “Of course I will!”

Scott bounced his knees and Kira squeaked when he played with the bottom of her corset, “I’m gonna go smoke,” he cooed.

Kira agreed to go with him and when they got up to leave Derek mentioned grabbing some drinks. Stiles stood up and walked with him to the kitchen, squeezing past a group of people cluttered by the fridge to get to the ice chest full of cold beers.

“Blue Moon?” Stiles asked, lifting up a bottle.

Derek shrugged, “That works.”

The night went on and one beer turned into two beers which magically turned into five beers- for Stiles at least because Derek was driving. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, and Stiles tried to convince Derek that they could spend the night but he shook his head.

“I don’t drink much anyways,” he shrugged.

Stiles narrowed his eyes, “You’re a bartender, how do you not drink much?”

Derek shrugged again and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Guys!” Isaac slung his arm around Stiles’ shoulder, a bottle of bourbon tipped against his lips which he immediately put against Stiles’ mouth.

A strangled yelp was all that Stiles got out before the bottle was being pressed against his lips and spicy liquid made its way down his throat. He choked and sputtered, swatted at Isaac and backed up into Derek once he made an escape.

He hissed with the burn of alcohol fresh on his tongue, “You and your hard shit,” Stiles stuck his tongue out in mock disgust, “gross man.”

Jackson pushed his way through the small crowd in their living room and stumbled into Isaac, snatching the bottle from him to take a sip of his own. They were a strange couple but strong and very sure of themselves. Isaac never doubted Jackson’s feelings for him since the moment they met and Jackson never asked Isaac for anything until he bought the house. After that all he asked for was a title and some form of stability.

Isaac moved in and Jackson was more than happy.

“So,” Jackson slurred, “you guys wanna smoke a blunt or what?”

“I’m good, actually,” Stiles sighed and felt Derek’s hand on his waist.

“No thank you, but I’ll go out for a cigarette,” he stepped away which left Stiles to catch himself when he stumbled.

“You good,” Derek asked, shooting out to grab him when Stiles swayed.

Stiles shook his head and sucked in a deep breath, “No, no! You just caught me off guard, I’m fine, I just gotta pee. I’ll catch up with you guys.” 

Derek watched him for a minute, a coy smile playing on his lips, “You sure? You’re a little-“

“I’m a little fine,” Stiles seethed, leaning forward to press a brief kiss to Derek’s lips before he turned and made his way towards the bathroom which, of course, had a long ass line. 

Stiles’ head was swimming in alcohol. His thoughts turned and twisted as he stood with his back against the wall, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other at his mouth so he could chew on his nails. Everything was steady but it just seemed so strange- so different. Summer was here and perhaps it was the heat that had Stiles scorched and mangled, sun-poisoned and satiated.

Two girls stumbled out of the bathroom and the guy in front of Stiles stepped in.

He sighed, head lolled the side so he could watch the crowd of people in Jackson’s living room mingle. It was a show of beautiful smiles and glamorized dead beats. That’s all Venice really was, a place for starving artists and cynics to dig a hole and call it home- a beach side over-romanticized haven. 

When the bathroom opened Stiles stepped forward and gasped when a hand gripped the door before he could shut it.

There were fingers around his hips and a mouth on his own, warm and familiar and hard. He whined, squirmed until the door was shut and he felt the bathroom counter dig into his lower back.

“Scott, what the-“ Stiles gulped down a breath as teeth pulled at the lobe of his ear, “what the fuck…” 

His voice trailed off and he hated how quickly his hands found their place on Scott’s shoulders. How muscle memory took effect immediately and he was pulling, tearing at his friend’s shirt and spreading his legs so Scott could shove his thigh between them. 

Scott’s hand was under his shirt and Stiles winced when he felt the scrape of nails rake down his side, “You’re wearing that cologne,” Scott huffed against his neck and inhaled.

Stiles licked over his lips, rocked forward into Scott’s lap and tried to control the whimper threatening to spill out of his mouth.

“That cologne, Gio right?” Scott shoved his nose against Stiles’ throat, opened his mouth and hummed, “I love it.”

Stiles’ legs were shaking, his heart was pounding and the way Scott felt pressed against him set his nerves on fire and made his stomach turn. This was how it always happened. They called it off, washed their hands clean and moved on- but every time it was one or the other who happened to make the mistake of falling into the same old pattern. The same fucking pattern. 

Scott would meet someone and then somehow Stiles would end up pulling him into the back of the van. 

Stiles would meet someone and Scott would knock on his door at three in the morning, eyes glazed with a beer bottle in his hand. Stiles always let him in.

It was a pattern and Stiles hated the way he had fallen in love with it.

But.

“Scott-“ Stiles pressed, hands wound into the hairs on the nape of his neck, “c’mon, you’ve got Kira and-“

“And?” Scott slurred, blinking hazy eyes at Stiles who was biting down on his own lip to keep it from trembling.

“And I have-“ 

Scott stopped the sentence before it was completed and Stiles found himself trapped in the way his mouth fell into the grooves of his own- the way Scott was all bite, but every now and again would part his lips and smooth the small silver sphere imbedded in his tongue against the back of Stiles’ teeth.

Stiles gripped Scott’s hair, enticing a moan to vibrate its way into his mouth and he felt his spine bend when Scott palmed him firmly through his jeans.

That was when Stiles should have broken the kiss. When he should have said ‘I have someone in my life who genuinely likes me and wants something serious.’ When he should have looked at his best friend and told him it was over and meant it this time.

But instead the door opened.

Derek’s name got stuck in Stiles’ throat and he choked on it when the man turned his eyes to the ground and lifted his brows. It was a very obvious look of shame, a sarcastic way of telling Stiles that it hurt. His teeth were set together hard and he snorted, giving a poisonous half-smile and rolling his eyes before he turned to walk away.

“Der-“ Stiles jolted forward which sent Scott backwards into the wall. 

Scott yelped and reached up to grab the back of his head which had knocked into the cabinet. 

“Fuck, Scott, are you okay?” Stiles swung back and tried to catch his breath. He knelt down only to be swatted away.

“I’m fine, just go-“ Scott sighed softly, “I’m sorry, just-“

Stiles didn’t wait, he turned, shoulder hitting the door frame before he shoved through a mess of people crowded next to the bathroom and craned on his tip toes to look for Derek.

He was at the front door when Stiles caught him; grasping his wrist so tight it hurt his own fingers.

“Derek-“ Stiles’ voice was panicked, “gimme a second to explain, just-“

Screeching tires echoed between his ears and he winced when the door slammed.

Stiles blinked at the ground. His hands were fisted at his side and he wanted nothing more than to open the door and chase after him but the better part of him, probably the sober part of him told him it would be best to stay put. 

Because he didn’t know what he was going to say if Derek did let him explain. 

He didn’t know where he would pull the words from or how he could make them sound like something Derek could believe. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder and flinched, turning to find Lydia’s eyes blinking back at him.

Stiles bit down on his lip because this two week fling was not worth tears.

And he had cried enough over Scott.

“Baby,” Lydia sighed, tugging him forward against her chest, “it’s okay…”

Stiles’ mind was trying to catch up with his actions.

“I fucked up,” Stiles whispered.

“Yeah,” Lydia agreed, “ya did… Scott already caved and told Kira, she went out the back.”

He wanted to curl in on himself. Wanted to go hide in the back of his van and not come out until October when it was cold and the ocean was angry.

The sound of fireworks split the night open and Stiles closed his eyes.

+

There was something about loneliness- something about the way it lingered around when Stiles was doing the most ridiculous things. He could be folding his clothes on his bed, putting dishes away, picking out new tea at the Indian market or as he was at the moment, standing naked in the shower with water spraying down over his face, and suddenly it would manifest at the base of his spine.

A quiet little ache.

He liked to think it was just because he had isolated himself for a week and not because Derek didn’t answer his phone when he called two days after the fourth. 

Lydia had sent him countless texts, offered to give him a shampoo and a massage if he wanted to come hang out with her at the salon.

Allison had told him to give Derek space.

Isaac hadn’t said much because he knew that Stiles probably wouldn’t listen and that was the truth. Stiles never really did listen. Especially when it came to things that mattered- things like Derek.

It hurt to know that Derek mattered.

Stiles may or may not have punched the mirror in his bathroom when he got home the morning after that party. 

And he may or may not have curled up on the ground and cried his eyes out like a little bitch because for the first time he had lost something that was worth keeping.

When he stepped out of the shower he stared at his splintered reflection, let his eyes drift around the pieces of himself that jut this way and broke that way. It was disfigured. Wrong. An image that Stiles didn’t want to relate to because of how down right cliché it would be. The broken boy. The shattered remains. He tilted his head to the side, wide maple eyes blinking from behind long water-stuck lashes and sighed when he rolled his shoulders back. 

He’d fucked up.

Really fucked up.

And when there was a knock at the door moments later, Stiles spit out the foam from his toothpaste in the sink and glanced over, fingers running up through his hair.

It was half-past two in the morning and everything inside Stiles told him to ignore it. 

But he grabbed a pair of sweats, walked over and opened the door anyways to stare painfully into large dark brown eyes.

Scott licked over his lips and fiddled nervously, “Please don’t tell me to go away,” he said quietly.

Stiles felt his chest ache and held the door open, “C’mon, man, come in.”

It was silent at first as Scott made his way in and sat on the end of the bed. He looked down at his hands and sucked on the inside of his cheeks, chewed on the backs of his piercings. 

“Do you want a cup?” Stiles asked when the kettle started to whistle on the compact stove.

Scott shook his head.

“Do you want a beer?”

Scott nodded.

Stiles rolled his eyes and reached into the fridge, “Thought so.”

“You should know me that well by now, man,” Scott offered, looking up to meet Stiles’ eye as he walked over and joined him on the edge of the bed.

“I do,” Stiles said.

Scott sighed, low and long, “You haven’t answered any of my calls.”

“I know,” Stiles took a sip off his green tea, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I just… We haven’t gone that long without speaking since-“

“Don’t,” Stiles bit.

Scott bristled and Stiles could feel him tense beside him.

“I shouldn’t have fucking come over here,” Scott pushed a deep breath out over his lips and stood, setting the beer on the table as he rushed for the door. His bare feet stomped against the ground and Stiles felt his stomach clench. 

Let him go.

Let him go.

“Scott!” Stiles mentally punched himself when he swung the door open and caught his friend by the arm as he was about to step off the porch.

Scott turned quick on his feet to face him, heaving in breath after breath as Stiles tried to fish for the words that would make sense of everything. Of anything. But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Nothing except for Scott and the way his chest moved up and down with every breath he took. The urge to push him away was almost as strong as the urge to pull him in and the urge to pull him in was almost as strong as the urge to scream about the past two years.

About how foolish they had been with their own friendship.

And how hard it’s been to fall out of love with him.

“Say it,” Scott hissed, throat clogged with something Stiles hadn’t heard in a long time, “say it so I can say it too.”

Stiles was biting down on his lip, fingers still wrapped around Scott’s forearm as they stood and stared at each other. It used to feel so right between them- like whenever Stiles would put his hands on Scott the world would stop and make room for them. Take a breath for them. And they never let that breath go. No matter how many people came and went, no matter how many times they had the same conversation it always ended in a tangle of arms and legs and lips somewhere down on the beach in the dark. It always ended with them falling into each other instead of falling into the world. Into relationships. Into reality. Into functional, easy, wonderful things. Things that they had both let slip through their fingers.

“I loved you,” Stiles whispered and Scott closed his eyes, “I still-“

Fuck, he looked away because Scott was starting to stare at the sky and his eyes were misted over.

“I still love you, but we aren’t,” Stiles shifted when he felt Scott’s hand brush against his leg, “we aren’t good for each other, you know that. You know all of this, Scott.”

Scott didn’t say anything.

“You are my best fucking friend,” Stiles pressed, gritting his teeth when Scott clenched his jaw, “but we deserve better than what we do to each other.”

That was when Scott looked at him. Big oak eyes gentle and calm.

Stiles could feel his heart beat in his throat.

Scott inhaled a shaky breath, “You’re right.”

Stiles gripped his arm.

“I…” Scott paused and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, “I know I’ve said this before but I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” Stiles assured, hissing the words like he was insulted to even have to say them, “me and you? We’re batman and robin, man.” 

Scott’s lips twitched into a small smile before he leaned in and kissed Stiles on the mouth.

It was quick, a soft press before he drew back and reached out to squeeze Stiles’ shoulder, “This is it?”

Stiles nodded, “Yeah,” the word got cut short as his throat started to close, “this is it.”

Scott left that night and Stiles smoked a joint by himself in his little studio apartment. The smoke coiled up around his face and the relief that settled just below his collar bones in the middle of his chest was enough to reassure him of his decision. A decision that had taken two years and some odd months to understand- a decision that Stiles wouldn’t have made if it weren’t for a moody bartender who didn’t talk much.

Stiles looked down at his phone before he typed out a message.

der i’m sorry

There was no response. 

+

Allison stopped by the clinic the next day.

Stiles didn’t ask about Derek and Allison didn’t bring him up.

When she left she hugged him tight and Stiles nodded when she asked if he was okay.

“Are you sure?” she mumbled, taking a step back and gripping his shoulders with both hands.

“Yeah, Ally,” Stiles offered a smile, “I’m sure.”

The way she looked at him said ‘I know better’ but she left without a word and Stiles wondered how Derek’s morning runs were going.

+

Stiles threw his head back and groaned when Lydia heaved an annoyed sigh, “So you and Scott are serious this time? No random hooking up after or during any potential relationships?”

“Yes, Lydia, we are serious,” Stiles snapped, “thank you for rubbing that in my face.”

“Well,” the red head arched a brow, “excuse me for not believing you.”

Stiles was quiet after that, eyes turned towards the water as they sat on the beach with their feet in the sand. Lydia leaned into him, her shoulder rubbing gently against his own and Stiles didn’t mind the feather weight of her. If there was ever anyone who told him how it was, it was Lydia.

She poked his leg with a yellow painted finger nail, “Did you love him?”

Stiles’ back straightened, “Scott?”

“No,” mossy eyes blinked at him and Lydia squinted as the sun rose high in the sky.

Stiles played with a clump of sand and shrugged, “Derek? I barely knew him.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t take that much time,” Lydia said, scratching gently at his arm.

“I think I could have,” Stiles admitted, to her and to himself, “I think I should have.”

Stiles lay back on the towel so he could feel the sun against his torso and Lydia reached down to grab his hand. She gave it a gentle squeeze because it was obvious that Stiles didn’t want to talk about it. That he didn’t want to talk about how great Derek was. 

How his mouth and his hands left little reminders splashed across Stiles’ hips and how when he had looked at Stiles he looked at him like he was something to be remembered rather than something to be discarded. 

“Maybe you should go see him,” Lydia said.

Long fingers fiddled with Lydia’s knuckles.

“I tried calling and I texted, he just…” Stiles swallowed dryly, “doesn’t really want anything to do with me.”

“You don’t know that,” the woman cooed reassuringly.

“I wouldn’t want anything to do with me,” Stiles turned to look at her and Lydia tried to smile.

“Well, maybe he’s more forgiving than you are.”

Stiles nodded because he wanted the conversation to end and when his phone vibrated in his pocket he reached down and held his breath as he looked at the screen.

It was Scott.

kira and me are trying again

He shoved his phone away and didn’t respond. 

+

Stiles went to work on Monday.

He smoked and sang to the soft sounds of Yellowcard in the back of van all of Tuesday afternoon.

Wednesday he went to work again.

Thursday was the same.

And on Friday he cleaned his entire apartment because it hadn’t been done in months.

A guy with bright blue eyes and freckled cheeks slipped him his number while he was working on Saturday. Stiles didn’t call.

But on Sunday he heard the door to the clinic open and the beads swung to the left as someone stepped through them. Someone with needle point black boots and long dark hair whose lips were lined in violet.

Kira smiled and Stiles didn’t know what to do.

“Don’t be scared,” she sang, eyebrows lifting as she held her palms out in mock surrender, “I’m not here to bitch you out.”

Stiles tilted his head to the side, “You probably should be.”

She shrugged, “Why? You and Scott had unfinished history, I understand that.”

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest as she leaned her hip against the counter.

“I feel like I should apologize,” Stiles mumbled.

Kira shrugged again, “You don’t have to.”

“He told me you guys are back together.”

“Yeah, when he actually told me what the deal was between you two it made more sense and when he told me you guys had finally settled it I believed him,” Kira said.

Stiles nodded.

“Should I believe him?” her voice was quieter, lower, and she eyed Stiles carefully from under long heavily coated eyelashes. 

His stomach twisted and Stiles felt his lungs constrict.

“Yeah, you should believe him,” he said, clear and sharp, “me and Scott hadn’t been serious for a while and it… it was a long time coming.”

“Thank you,” she cleared her throat, “for being honest with me.”

Stiles tried to focus on the papers he had to file. He played with his keys, bit on his nails; typed nonsense on the computer so that Kira wouldn’t see how uncomfortable this was. How angry he was that Scott got to keep his happiness and he-

“Derek came by the show the other day,” Kira piped and Stiles felt like he’d been punched in the chest, “and when I told him I had forgiven Scott he asked about you.”

Caramel eyes lifted and Stiles stopped everything that he was doing, that included breathing.

“That’s the reason I’m here,” she said, grinning wide to show rows of white teeth.

He didn’t know what to feel and everything inside him was leaning towards anger- why? Stiles had no idea but for some reason he was pissed. The rest of him was torn between excitement and curiosity because why the fuck would Derek ask about him? Why would he want anything to do with him? 

Stiles wanted to punch something almost as bad as he wanted to tell Derek to go find himself a nice boy who wasn’t a drop out dirt bag and live a happy life.

Also he wanted a second chance.

He really wanted a second chance. 

“Kira,” Stiles tested, “I really appreciate you coming and talking to me and us understanding whatever was here to understand but telling me you saw Derek is kind of a shitty thing to shove in my-“

“You still care about him?” she interrupted, tapping a long nail against the counter top.

Stiles bit down on his lip and swallowed, because fuck yes he still cared about him. He hadn’t known he could harbor feelings for someone besides Scott until Derek crawled inside him with his bitter attitude and his ridiculous body and his absolute unrefuted capability to make Stiles crumble.

There had been others. Plenty of others besides Scott.

But Derek was different.

“Yes,” Stiles answered.

Kira watched him for a moment, cat eyes scanning across his face and neck before she leaned over and slapped a kiss to middle of his cheek.

Stiles’ eyes widened and he froze.

“Come see my show tomorrow?” she stuck out her bottom lip and poked him in the stomach which made him squirm, “You promised.”

She walked away after that, a lace black cape swinging behind her and Stiles was left confused with a lipstick stain on his cheek and too many questions he didn’t have answers to.

+

“Tell me what to do,” Stiles was sitting on a stool swinging his legs back and forth while Lydia folded foils in a client’s hair.

She rolled her eyes, “Go to his house.”

Stiles groaned, “I can’t just show up at his house, Lydia!” 

“You asked me, I told you.”

Her client side eyed him, an old woman who was far too tan for her own good and smacked her lips together as she chewed a piece of gum.

“What, I just- I just march over there and then what? What do I do?” Stiles was scrambling and he ripped the striped beanie off his head so he could flip it inside out and play with the loose strings.

“Yep,” Lydia chirped.

Rihanna was playing loud over the salon speakers and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“I can’t do that-“

“Yes, you can,” Lydia hissed.

“No,“ Stiles pressed, “I can’t.”

The older client in Lydia’s chair turned and raised a thin blonde brow, “Is this all over some boy, sweetheart?” 

Stiles blushed and Lydia grinned.

“Yeah,” he answered rather shyly. He didn’t quite know why he was so shy all of a sudden seeing as she’d been sitting there the whole time.

“Well,” her voice was hoarse, wear and tear from years of cigarettes, “you’re a cute young thing, walk up to that boy and kiss him.”

Stiles closed his eyes in defeat because that was absolutely not happening.

Lydia laughed and gave an exaggerated nod.

“Uhm,” Stiles tried to laugh but it came out forced and he choked, “I don’t think I should-“

“Of course you should!” the woman waved a hand at him, long pink acrylics tapping his wrist.

Stiles glanced at Lydia who shrugged and directed her customer to the drier.

It was four o’clock and Kira’s show was starting in ten minutes.

+

They introduced her as the ‘bone-breaking vampire from the shadows of Venice’ and when Kira walked on stage she was wearing a tiny black and white corset with black shorts and a red lace cape. Her smile was wide and fake fangs poked over her lips. She bent her body backwards, wrapped her legs around her head and twisted her arms into knots. It was incredible to watch and Stiles smiled every time her eyes scanned across the crowd. 

The show concluded after she slid a sword down her throat and gave a bow, waving and smiling as people walked up to the stage to shake her hand or get a picture with her. Stiles waited with his back against the wall next to a glass cabinet filled with mummified two headed animals and Kira came bounding over once the patrons’ attention was stolen by Jerry who had been brought out a bearded lady. 

“Stiles! Hey,” she reached out and gave him a tight hug which he hadn’t been expecting. It took a minute as she glanced around before she gasped and pointed towards the other end of the room, “Oh! Look at that, it’s Scott! Your best friend who you haven’t talked to in two weeks, let’s go!”

“Kira-“ Stiles tripped when she pulled him across the room and felt his throat start to close. 

They hadn’t spoken, that was true. Not since the night they buried their broken relationship under the two years of desperate pining they both held for each other. Stiles couldn’t help but be nervous, not because it was Scott but because it was Scott. His best friend. And he was terrified that things would change no matter how much he assured it wouldn’t.

“Oh, look Scott! It’s Stiles! How weird that he would just be here, right?” Kira looked between the two of them, one hand on Scott’s shoulder the other on Stiles’, “So weird, now I have to go change so you guys should totally talk!”

She ran away. Literally. 

Stiles blinked at Scott and Scott blinked back.

“That was smooth,” Stiles looked over his shoulder as Kira bounded into the back room.

Scott was smiling, “She told me she knew I missed you.”

Stiles almost flinched.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around,” Stiles said, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth, “I’ve just been trying to figure things out.”

Scott tilted his head to the side, “Well I really needed your help picking out a shirt the other day and you didn’t answer your phone so…”

Stiles smiled.

“What are you five? You can pick out your own clothes, Scott,” he laughed.

“I needed your advice though, man,” Scott was watching him from under his lashes and Stiles looked away because too soon, it was too soon.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, “Sorry, buddy, I’ll uh,” he cleared his throat, “I won’t skip out on my wing-man duties next time.”

Scott smiled and Stiles smiled back.

+

It was August. Hot. Dry. Busy. August.

Stiles didn’t know where the time had gone but it was August and he was done.

Done wondering. Done waiting. Done wallowing. 

“Just go tell him!” Scott blurted over the top of his beer bottle, “You’ve been upset over this for a month now, just go.”

Stiles groaned and Scott rolled his eyes as they sat on the beach watching Kira and Isaac play volleyball.

“It’s not that easy,” Stiles looked over the edge of his sunglasses.

“It is,” Scott pointed at Kira who dove to get to the ball, “if I can do it, you can.”

Stiles chewed on the inside of his cheeks, picked at his nail beds and reached down to play with a handful of sand.

He had run into Derek once and it was at the café when he finally mucked up enough courage to go see Allison. Stiles had sat down and enjoyed exactly one glass of water before Derek saw him and stopped what he was doing. He stopped and he stared, mouth pinched together in a sour line that Stiles felt in his bones. 

Allison had chased after him when he got up, hopped over the patio wall and started walking down the board walk. She cornered him in the book store when he ducked away to hide and told him that Derek just didn’t know how to approach him.  
Stiles had snorted and said ‘that makes two of us.’ 

So when Stiles looked over his shoulder towards the parking lot and saw Derek walking towards his car with his apron slung over his arm and an iced tea in his hand he fought with himself on what to do. He could sit in the sand next to Scott and watch Kira lose this Volleyball match against Isaac. He could inwardly panic and hope to god that Derek didn’t see him. He could inwardly panic and hope to god that Derek did see him. Or he could get up.

“Dude, where are you, oh-“ Scott stopped what he was saying when Stiles got up and started walking towards the parking lot.

Derek had set his cup on top of his car and was fishing in his pocket. Stiles swallowed and his tongue darted out to wet his sun cracked lips.

The sound of Stiles’ sandals against the pavement are what pulled Derek’s eyes to his own and Stiles tried to steady his breathing so he could talk but no words came out. Not a single one. Derek watched him, waited for Stiles to put together a sentence that could make him stand there and listen to a lengthy explanation. An apology. A do over. He stood there and he looked at Stiles and Stiles couldn’t find a damn thing to say. Not when he was too busy studying the lines of gold that seeped out of Derek’s pupil into the forest of green in his iris and not when he was remembering how well his fingers felt gripping Stiles’ waist.

So, when Derek finally did look down Stiles went with option two.

He stepped forward and kissed him.

The sun beat down on them and the sounds of waves crashing mingled with summer laughter. 

Derek smelt like spicy cologne and sunscreen, he tasted like cigarette smoke and cranberry juice. 

Stiles’ eyes fluttered when he heard the small gasp that Derek let out as his mouth was covered by Stiles’ insistent lips and he stood there with his hands at his sides because he didn’t know if grabbing Derek like he wanted to was a good idea. He didn’t know if any of this was a good idea.

But Derek kissed him back, slow and hesitant, a simple press and pull that made Stiles’ stomach jump into his throat. He hummed gently, fingertips just barely brushing the bartender’s hand and then there was nothing. Just warm summer air and the sound of 

Derek grinding his teeth.

He swayed forward when Derek pulled away and wanted to crawl inside himself at the sight of narrowed eyes and frosted red cheeks.

“Are you kidding me?” 

The words hit Stiles like a rogue wave.

“Is this… Are you fucking joking? You keep your distance for a month and then expect me to jump back in your life because you kiss me- Stiles, you have to got to be-“

“I didn’t know what to do!” Stiles blurted, heart beating out of control behind his ribcage. He tried to look at Derek but his eyes kept going everywhere else and he couldn’t calm down his breathing nor could make the embarrassment fade away from the tips of his ears, “I wanted to explain, I wanted to talk to you but you wouldn’t text me back and I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. I fucked up, I always fuck up and I fucked up something really good and-“

“And now you realize it so you want it back?” Derek asked, almost bewildered by Stiles’ attempts. His eyebrows were pulled together and he huffed out a sarcastic laugh.

Stiles was trembling, “I fucking told,” he growled when Derek rolled his eyes, “I told you I didn’t do the dating thing, I told you it was all new for me, I just-“

“Left out the Scott part,” Derek interrupted, shoving his hand in his pocket to grab his keys.

“No! Derek, would you listen to me!” Stiles was yelling at that point and Derek turned far too swiftly, shoulders squared and jaw set tight.

He wanted to shrink into his van and not come out until December. 

“I am a natural fucking disaster,” he gestured to himself with shaking hands and watched Derek’s eyes soften, “and I hadn’t felt something until I met you. I know-“ he swallowed because this was too much and too deep and Stiles felt his own thumbs screwing salt into old wounds, “I know that I messed up but please-“

Stiles reached out to touch Derek’s arm and he shied away, grabbed the tea off the top of his car and slid into the driver’s seat.

He drove away and Stiles listened to the waves break against the shore.

+

Stiles ended up crumbling next to Scott on the beach after he stood in the parking lot and watched the sleek black Camaro drive away. 

Isaac had sighed.

Kira stroked the top of his head and told him there were more fish in the sea.

Scott just looked at him- he looked at him with soft eyes and his jaw slid back and forth.

That was when Stiles retired to his van, smoked a bowl and rolled himself in a maroon blanket.

It was, of course, Lydia who swung the doors open and heaved an exaggerated sigh.

“Hi boo boo,” Lydia crawled in and Stiles sat up with the blanket coiled around his face, eyes blinking out through an open slot.

She flopped down on his lap and he played absently with her hair- he fiddled with a braided piece that was wrapped tightly in colorful fabric, “What’re you doing here?” Stiles asked, poking Lydia playfully in the forehead.

She shrugged and reached up to snatch his hand, “I heard about what happened today,” her voice was quiet, “and Allison is working late again.” 

Stiles chuckled softly, “Word spreads that fast about the drama in my life?”

“Yeah, I heard you just whapped a kiss right on him.”

“That,” Stiles laughed at himself because hell, at this point what could he do, “is true.”

“Well, he doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Lydia cooed, scooting herself more into his lap as she fiddled with bony knuckles.

Stiles squeezed her hand, “Neither does she.”

When Lydia started to cry Stiles coaxed her to sit up and he didn’t mind when she wrapped her legs and arms around him. He held her in the safety of his ugly yellow bus and she pawed at her eyes while she told him that everything would be okay. 

“I know,” Stiles sighed, wrapping his arms tight around her when she sniffled.

“It will though,” she assured, waterlogged words fighting their way up over her lips, “it’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, Lyds,” he poked her in the forehead again when she sat back and starting wiping at her blotched mascara, “everything will be okay.”

+

Stiles drove Lydia home that night and she twiddled her thumbs in the passenger’s seat when they pulled up in front of her apartment.

“Is Allison home?” Stiles asked, squinting his eyes at the window next to the front door that peeked into the kitchen.

Lydia’s bottom lip fell slack, “She told me… She told me she was working late tonight and not to worry about dinner,” her voice was far away and Stiles smiled when he saw Allison through the blinds, rushing around the stove with pots and pans.

“I think you should go inside, babe,” Stiles offered, smiling when she flipped down the mirror and checked her makeup.

She fumbled through her purse before her eyes shot up, “Lipstick?” 

Lydia pouted her lips out and Stiles couldn’t help but laugh.

“Naw, you’re good.”

Stiles waited before he drove away, watched Lydia open the door and caught a glimpse of the wide smile decorating her face when Allison greeted her with flowers in one hand and a spatula in the other.

He slid his lip between his teeth and chewed on it. 

The road was just as empty as his apartment was.

+

i think i might go get a cat

Stiles hit send as he sat in the middle of his king sized bed.

Jackson messaged him back a minute later with ‘lol’ and Stiles rolled his eyes.

Stiles had gone out and bought a picture from one of the photographers that wandered through town every now and again. He hung it on the wall above his bed, a long panoramic of the Los Angeles city lights with the moon high above and for some reason 

it made the space seem more alive.

It made his little apartment seem more like a home.

The cup of tea clasped between his hands had gone cold and Stiles frowned down at it as the stick of incense burning on the kitchen table died out. He stood and set the cup in the sink, flicked the light off and crawled back into his bed, pulling a pillow next to him as he stared off into the darkness. The heat was what lulled him to sleep and he hoped that when he closed his eyes he didn’t dream of things he couldn’t have.

It was a strange dream. One that continued to melt into something that it wasn’t- he was walking down Hollywood Boulevard one minute and standing with his feet in the sand a split second later. The smell of rain and the woods pulled him back home to Beacon Hill’s with his father and then the ticking of a clock turned into the beating of a drum and the clearer it got the sooner Stiles opened his eyes and heard the knocking at his door.

He pawed at his eyes with the back of his hands and stumbled when he scooted out of bed. A curse toppled over his lips when he tripped over his converse and he squinted at the cable box to try and read the time but his eyes still hadn’t adjusted. 

“It’s three in the fucking-“ 

Stiles stopped when he swung the door open and saw dark black combat boots shifting against the old welcome mat on his porch. 

Derek’s eyes burned into him, fluttering back and forth from Stiles’ face to his exposed torso.

He didn’t know what to say, whether to invite him in or to ask what exactly was going on but his thoughts were cut short when Derek walked forward and slipped past him. The door shut and Stiles’ nerves hummed against his skin.

Stiles almost asked if he wanted some tea or a beer or anything for that matter but Derek sat down on the edge of Stiles’ bed and his train of thought seemed to evaporate.

So, he didn’t say anything. He just swallowed down the apprehension building in his stomach and took a few hesitant steps forward until he was just within reach.

Derek was looking down at his lap and Stiles had to remind himself to breathe.

Warm fingertips reached out and brushed against the top of Stiles’ thigh, they curled around his leg and he hated the sound he made- the little intake of breath that cracked through the silence. He closed his eyes, swayed forward when Derek gripped and pulled him closer.

The scratch of stubble rubbed against his abdomen and Stiles didn’t try to catch his breath when Derek’s mouth opened and he bit down on the flesh just shy of his bellybutton. He didn’t want to cave, to fall back into the whiplash of his old habits and push back. He wanted to feel everything. He wanted to experience whatever this was- the raw, undefined intimacy that he always tried to hide from.

But as Derek continued smoothing his tongue against the taunt skin around Stiles’ waist he felt his knees start to shake and when blunt teeth finally pushed into the hollow of his hip the blush smeared over his cheek started to blotch down his chest.

He almost fell and Derek’s free hand shot out to steady him while Stiles finally found the courage to coil his hand around the back of Derek’s head and thread his fingers through his hair.

Stiles didn’t mean to say his name and when he did it came out weak, a broken breath that he desperately tried to swallow back down.

His back hit the comforter when Derek pulled him down and he sat up only briefly to tug the bottom of Derek’s shirt up and off of him. 

“Come here,” it was the first thing that Derek said and Stiles almost hurt himself when he lunged forward.

It wasn’t perfect when their lips met- Stiles’ teeth clanked against Derek’s and he hissed when his bottom lip was pulled and pinched hard between Derek’s canines. He couldn’t keep his hands from sliding and gripping, moving up and down Derek’s sides to the nape of his neck and back down the slope of his spine.

Derek curled his hand under Stiles’ lower back and lifted, coaxing him to spread his legs and make room for the man to press down against him.

Stiles wanted to say something, to make a comprehensible sound other than the needy little whines that he kept pouring into Derek’s mouth when he curled and flicked his tongue but he couldn’t find the brake petal. Couldn’t piece together anything except the slow grind of Derek’s hips between his thighs and the sudden cold air that chilled his lips when he was granted the ability to gulp down a few mouthfuls of air.

He craned his neck, arched his back against the pinch of Derek’s teeth on his throat.

It felt like someone had their hands inside his chest and was scooping out the pieces of him that refused to surface- splintered little bits of Stiles that he had almost forgotten about. He wondered absently as Derek gave another opened mouth kiss to his neck if it hurt to show so much affection to someone as calloused as he was.

Long fingers wrapped around Derek’s jaw as Stiles pulled him back for another short kiss, shifting his weight so he could roll them over.

Green eyes narrowed and Derek tilted his head, chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. Stiles had his legs on either side of his hips and took his time in getting a good look at the man beneath him. Thick, sharp collarbones decorated the top of his chest and Stiles bit down on his bottom lip as his gaze fell lower. He felt Derek shift as he studied the way his abdomen clenched, eyes trailing down to the jut of hipbones and the grey waist band of his boxers poking out underneath his jeans.

Derek’s hands moved up Stiles’ knees, smoothed over the baggy fabric of his sweats and reached around to grab his ass and pull him forward into another slow roll of his hips.

Stiles’ hands fell against Derek’s chest and he closed his eyes, lips slack and swollen hung open in a silent gasp. 

“Stiles,” his name sounded so good being sighed out of Derek’s mouth.

Warm lips attached themselves to Derek’s jaw, then his throat, to his shoulders and chest until Stiles was crawling down the length of his body. His palm slid up, rested gently on Derek’s cheek before he moved even lower and was pulling Derek’s jeans down with him.

It was only a matter of time before they had both effectively rid each other of their clothing and when Stiles finally kicked off his boxers, Derek was pushing himself up on his elbows and scooting back on the bed. He sat up with his back against the wall and his legs outstretched, watching as Stiles made his way closer. 

Stiles had never done this before. Taken it slow. Made it ache. He had never felt his stomach in his throat like he did that night, crawling up over Derek’s lap, studying the contours of his body in the dark and wanting nothing more than to be touched. Just touched.

For the first time Stiles didn’t want to fuck and move on.

He wanted to touch Derek- to feel him, breathe him in.

And he wanted Derek to use his hands and his mouth to make Stiles feel like so much more than what he was.

Derek’s arms wrapped around him when Stiles straddled his hips and he raked his nails down the stairs of Stile’s spine when his lips were taken in a deep kiss. He hummed, one hand moving up to grip the back of Stiles’ neck while the other snaked between them and his fingers curled around the velvety skin at the base of his cock.

Stiles whined, eyes screwed shut as Derek gave long slow strokes, his fist was tight and Stiles couldn’t help but buck his hips and beg wordlessly for more. 

“God, you’re-“ Derek’s lips trembled just inches from Stiles’ own, “so fucking gorgeous.”

It was still hard to digest being complimented in moments like that- when Stiles was thrusting up into Derek’s hand and starting to beg with choked off moans and small shameful whimpers. But Stiles just inhaled the air that Derek kept exhaling and shifted closer to press their chests together and rock himself more fully into his lap.

Stiles felt the heat at the base of his spine start to rise and he lost control of his own movements when Derek rubbed his thumb on the smooth underside of his cock. He tried to stay quiet in the silent room but when he came he gripped the sides of Derek’s face and kissed him hard on the mouth, a raspy moan fluttering over his lips. His body clenched, eyes rolled back and he felt his toes curl into the comforter. It was different and it took him off guard to feel so vulnerable. Derek’s free arm gripped tight around his waist, holding him close through wave after wave of warmth that seeped into his pores. 

His body went limp with his legs folded over Derek’s thighs and his arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. With every breath he took he felt a slight tremor drifting up his back and into his neck, a tremble that made him realize how significant change could be. 

Stiles lifted his eyes and was met with Derek’s lips parted, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide.

“What do you want?” Stiles whispered against his mouth before he took Derek’s lips in another prying, fluid kiss.

Derek didn’t answer and Stiles didn’t mind because he hadn’t really waited for one.

Instead he trailed his lips down Derek’s throat and left tiny bitten bruises on his chest as he made his way to his waist.

“Scoot down,” Stiles pulled at Derek’s hips and he complied through the sound of a cracked inhale and then again with a soft growl when Stiles wrapped his lips around him.

He tasted like the ocean and the weight of him felt good in Stiles’ mouth- his lips were stretched tight and he hummed, stroking gently with his tongue and adjusting his jaw when Derek’s hips jerked.

“Sorry-“ Derek gritted out, setting a hesitant hand on the top of Stiles’ head. 

Thick dark lashes fluttered as Stiles watched him, encouraging with his eyes when he saw Derek’s stomach flex. One of his hands was fisted in the comforter, the other was carding through Stiles’ hair and he wanted nothing more than for Derek to pull, press, fuck him but that wasn’t what tonight was for.

He understood that.

“Fuck,” Derek tried to give a warning but all that he got out was a whimper and Stiles didn’t mind. He just stroked at the head of Derek’s cock with his tongue, wrapped and kneaded and sucked until he was hissing and cursing and whining at him.

Stiles’ wiped at his mouth with his back of his hand after he sat up and Derek’s head lolled to rest against the wall.

They caught their breath and the darkness seemed to spark with electricity. The two of them didn’t move. Neither one reached for the other and Stiles started to wonder if he should stay like that- sitting back on his knees in the middle of his bed right in front of Derek. He wondered if being bared, stripped, cracked wide open was what Derek needed to see.

His heart was running away with itself and Stiles couldn’t stand that he was still trembling, that his muscles were still twitching against his will. Derek had effectively set him on fire again.

Derek huffed and Stiles looked up to see him tapping the space beside him, “Come back.”

Stiles swallowed with the taste of Derek still lingering in his mouth before he shuffled forward. They lay down facing each other, the tip of Stiles’ nose bumping gently across Derek’s. 

Warm lips brushed against Stiles’ chin, “Are you gonna let yourself be happy with me?” Derek breathed.

Stiles felt his throat start to close, his eyes squeezed shut and it was obvious that he hadn’t hid the pained expression crossing his face very well because Derek was leaning forward, fitting their bodies together as a strong arm curled around Stiles’ back.

“Hey,” Derek’s voice was soft, “I didn’t come over here expecting to-“

“Have mind-blowing sex,” Stiles mumbled.

A smile pulled at Derek’s lips, “No, I wasn’t expecting that.”

Stiles relaxed against the gentle trickle of Derek’s fingertips down his side.

“I came here expecting to hear you out but then I saw you and,” he paused when Stiles curled closer, tangling their legs together, “I knew it wouldn’t fucking matter anyways.”

A breathy laugh was punched out of him and Stiles withdrew only to have Derek’s grip tighten around him.

An angry snap of Stiles’ teeth broke the quiet nature of the conversation, “What? So this is it? Minds made up? You come over here and just-“

“Want to start over,” Derek interrupted, tugging on Stiles’ hips when they shifted away.

Stiles blinked and stumbled over his breath, “You shouldn’t forgive me.”

“I forgive you,” Derek countered, leaning in to press his lips against Stiles’.

He squirmed, “I’m not worth it-“

“Yes, you are,” Derek hissed, a hand moving up to grip Stiles’ cheek.

The soft sound Stiles argued with was cut short by another persistent kiss. He returned it far too willingly, lips molding and parting against Derek’s. 

Why?

He didn’t know he’d said anything until Derek was pulling away and watching him carefully from under his lashes.

“Because the time we spent together was shorter than the time we spent apart,” Derek rubbed his thumb just below Stiles’ eye, “and as much as I wanted to get you out of my head, I couldn’t.” 

Stiles swallowed and didn’t have anything to say to that. Not one word. Because it was true, so painfully true. He hadn’t just moved on to the next like he knew he could have, he didn’t keep things going with Scott which, honestly, would have been the easiest option and most certainly did not get over Derek Hale what-so-ever. 

“Today, by your car,” the words drifted out of Stiles’ mouth and Derek rolled his eyes.

“I was pissed,” Derek shrugged.

“You should still be pissed.”

“Are you seeing anyone?” Derek asked.

Stiles shook his head.

“And you ended things with Scott?”

Stiles nodded.

“Do you want to try again?”

Stiles nodded again.

“Then why are you trying to fight with me about this?” Derek pulled him in again and Stiles gave up.

He gave in. Crumbled. Broke. Because trying to find any reason to push this man away was ridiculous and he had known that since the beginning. Whether he felt like he deserved him or not.

Derek slotted their mouths together, ran his hand down Stiles’ shoulder and pressed him into the mattress. He held him there, tongue tracing the seam of Stiles’ lips until they parted, thigh sliding to press up between Stiles’ legs. 

Stiles was lifted up and he wrapped his arms around Derek’s shoulder holding him close when Derek mumbled that they should take a shower.

Stiles buried his face in the space where his neck met his shoulder.

“I missed you,” he grumbled, hiding the blush that was spreading across his cheeks.

Stiles was not the kind of guy that made love or went on cute dates or admitted to things like missing someone. 

Derek smirked and gripped his waist, “I bet.”

Stiles swatted him playfully when they stumbled backwards towards the bathroom.

+

The next day Stiles let Derek take him on a proper date to a little sushi bar in West Hollywood. They shared four different rolls while exchanging stories of their childhood. Derek had played basketball in high school, Stiles had played lacrosse. Derek had his first kiss in his freshman year with a girl named Paige, Stiles had his first kiss sophomore year with a girl named Heather. Derek graduated and dropped out of community college, Stiles didn’t even make it through his senior year.

“Are you thinking of ever going back?” Derek asked, snatching a piece of the spicy scallop roll.

Stiles shook his head, “I wanted to be a lawyer for a while but that’s kinda dead in the water,” he shrugged, “I might try and open up my own dispensary someday.”

Derek’s eyebrows rose, “That’s a big goal.”

“You sound like my father,” Stiles’ voice was low and his eyes flicked up to watch Derek, a snide smile playing at his lips.

“You should do it, though,” Derek offered, “I think you’d do great.”

Stiles took a sip off the steaming cup of green tea in his hands, “What about you? You ever gonna go back?”

Derek shook his head, “I like learning but I don’t like school.”

“I remember your wall of books,” Stiles said.

“It’s called a bookshelf but yes, I like to read,” Derek nearly hissed. 

A small smirk curved Stiles’ lips up and he tilted his head to the side, “I like that you like to read.”

The bartenders brows furrowed and he snorted, “And why’s that?”

“Means you like to explore,” Stiles said matter-of-factly.

Derek’s lips split into a grin and he looked down at the table, hands folded gently in front of him.

It was nice to see him smile.

+

Lydia found out that they were back together when Stiles saw her at the café that week. She demanded to know exactly why he hadn’t texted her about it and his excuse was that he’d either been working at the clinic or making up for lost time and she understood. She had explained the situation with Allison and Stiles was pleased to hear that Ally had decided to give up some of her hours at the bookstore so she and Lydia could spend more time together.

“Looks like we’re both gonna be okay,” Lydia said as she bit down on a fork full of mixed greens.

Stiles chuckled, “Yeah, looks like it.”

Allison smiled at him when she dropped off a basket full of fresh baked bread and set a hand gently on his shoulder as she passed by. 

“You’re actually gonna do the relationship thing, huh?”

“Yeah,” Stiles answered, fiddling with his butter knife, “I think I am.”

“Good,” Lydia grinned, pink painted lips curved up against the soft indent of her cheeks, “that’s really good.”

+

hey you and derek wanna come down to my meet on sunday?

Stiles blinked at his phone as he sat on Derek’s couch munching on peppered popcorn. 

“You wanna go to Jackson’s meet on Sunday?” he called over his shoulder towards the kitchen where Derek was cooking.

“Sure, what time?”

“They’re usually early morning, mid-day ish,” Stiles slurred through a mouthful of popcorn.

Derek appeared from around the corner holding two plates and set them both down on the small black coffee table, “That’s fine.”

“Swordfish?” Stiles chirped when he leaned forward and sniffed the air.

“Yeah,” Derek earned a growl from Stiles when he took the bowl of popcorn away from him, “and sweet potatoes. Don’t whine at me over the movie snacks when I just cooked you dinner.” 

His thumbs pressed against the glass front of his cell phone as Stiles typed a message back to Jackson.

“I’ll whine all I want-“

Derek snatched his phone from him in one swift movement and held it outstretched behind him on the couch.

“Hey!” Stiles snapped, fumbling to crawl over Derek’s torso, “You fucker! Why the fuck-“ he seethed, scrambling up over Derek’s lap while the man just huffed out a playful laugh, “would you take that.”

The bartender hummed pleasantly when Stiles was sufficiently on top of him.

Stiles bared his teeth in a mock snarl and Derek let his free arm drape across his lower back.

“Can we eat dinner, please?” Derek asked quietly, leaning in to press a kiss against Stiles’ lips.

“Give me my phone back,” Stiles mumbled only to be halted again by Derek’s very distracting mouth.

“I will,” he said, stretching his arm back further when Stiles reached for it, “but I want to eat dinner so we can smoke and watch Godzilla.”

“What’s up with you and old Godzilla movies?” Stiles purred, an eyebrow cocked against his forehead.

“I like them,” Derek answered plainly.

“I like my phone,” Stiles pressed.

Derek rolled his eyes, “Shut up and eat your dinner,” he sighed, tossing the phone on the other end of the couch. Stiles pressed a kiss against the side of his mouth before he slid off Derek’s lap and reached over to grab his phone so he could finish telling Jackson they would be there.

When the screen flashed on Stiles’ eyes went straight for the unread message from Scott and he held his breath when he opened it.

heard about you and derek. i'm happy for you

“Everything okay?” Derek’s voice was soft as he looked at Stiles over the rim of his glasses.

Stiles bit down on his lip as he read the words over and over and over again.

“Yeah,” he answered, setting his phone on the table before he bumped his knee gently against Derek’s leg, “everything’s good.”

Everything was good. 

Finally, everything was good.

+

The surf meet was the first weekend in September, a warm day that harbored a soft breeze and clear skies. Tall palm trees shook against the light winds, flip flops slapped against the black top and Stiles yipped out a laugh when he found a parking spot close to the sand. 

“See,” he cooed, “I told you I’d find a spot.”

Derek rolled his eyes, “We’ve only been driving in circled for fifteen minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled through a soft laugh.

They took the bus which wasn’t a bad idea seeing as it had its own personal changing area and they could hot box the shit out of it. Derek was a little more conservative when it came to the Camaro which was only to be expected.

After Derek had effectively covered himself in sunscreen and annoyed Stiles enough to do the same they headed down the beach towards the herd of people watching the preliminaries. They found Allison first- she was standing in a little red bikini with her hair tied up in a ribbon. The gold bangles she never took off were still looped around her wrist and she waved to them, holding her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun, “Guys! Hey!” 

Stiles wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug, “How are you not dying without sunglasses right now?”

“Lydia ran back to the car to grab them for me because she forgot her soda too,” Allison turned and smiled, reached to coil her arms around Derek who gladly returned the embrace.

“Isaac is with Jackson, this is the last wave of preliminaries before they start so we should head down to the shore as soon as-“ 

Her words stopped and Allison craned her neck to see over Derek’s shoulder who also turned and blinked towards the sidewalk.

“Holy shit,” a breathy laugh escaped Stiles when he saw the group of people walking towards them.

Lydia was walking backwards, talking loudly and making hand gestures in the air while Scott and Kira skipped beside her. It was the two others walking hand in hand that had everyone as excited as they were. 

Erica was beautiful, a young woman with feminine curves and bouncing rings of blonde hair. She was wearing jeaned shorts complimented by a lace crop top and yellow bikini. A jewel hung from her belly button and she was bare foot, tip toeing quickly over the black top where it was hot until she saw Stiles grinning at her from the beach.

Stiles laughed, loud and unashamed when the woman launched herself into his arms, “Fuckin’ a, girl! It’s been four months!”

He spun her around and she threw her head back, laughing along with him, “You’re damn right!” 

“How was China?” Stiles asked as he set her down, hands still clasped around her shoulders.

“Amazing! It was so amazing, Boyd and I,” she nudged her shoulder to the man making his way forward, “we saw everything- everything!” she exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet, “I’m glad to be home though.”

“We both are,” Boyd added as he walked forward and slung an arm around Stiles’ shoulder.

Boyd was broad and clearly strong- his arms were lined in black ink that curved up over his shoulder to the base of his neck and he had a small ring clasped through his septum. 

“We’re glad you’re home too,” Scott said softly as he appeared next to Lydia with Kira clutched tight to his arm.

Lydia was handing Allison her sunglasses and Scott was chatting with Boyd when Erica tilted her head to the side and looked behind Stiles where Derek was standing with his hands shoved awkwardly in his pockets. 

She blinked, hand brushing gently across the top of Stiles’ arm, “Hey, who’s this?” she piped curiously, eyes darting from Stiles to Derek and back again.

He stumbled over his words and shook his head, “God, I’m sorry Der,” he reached out to grip the man’s wrist and tug him forward, “this is Erica,” he nodded to the woman who offered a smile, “and her husband Boyd, guys this is my boyfriend, Derek.”

Derek arched a brow, but his lips twitched up into a smile.

“It’s a pleasure,” Derek said.

A warm hand rested around Stiles’ waist and he enjoyed the soft pull Derek gave when multiple pairs of eyes darted around them.

“Boyfriend?” Erica echoed, eyes wide as she glanced at Stiles and then at Lydia who gave a curt nod.

Stiles didn’t say anything because he didn’t need to and the matter wasn’t pressed any further when they all started to walk down the beach towards the competition. Scott and Kira were hand in hand while Allison chased Lydia, kicking sand at her ankles as they went. Erica had hopped on to Boyd’s back and he laughed when she slapped a kiss on his cheek. Derek’s arm was still settled lightly around Stiles’ waist and Stiles played absently with the man’s knuckles, bumped their hips together when they stopped next to a blue tent where the judges sat.

Isaac almost tackled Boyd and Erica when he saw them and after a few minutes of catching up he pointed out to the water, “Jackson’s paddling out right now,” he ran his fingers up through his hair.

They watched him from the beach, cheering every time he took a wave. 

As soon as Derek left to grab a water bottle at the snack shop Erica was at Stiles’ ear, “When did that pop into your life?” she purred, using her fingertips to outline Derek’s silhouette as he walked down the sidewalk

Stiles pawed at her and rolled his eyes, “It’s a long story but-“

“But you guys are like, dating? Like relationship dating? Like boyfriend?”. 

“Yes, Erica,” Stiles hummed, “like exclusive, official, one hundred percent committed boyfriend.”

The pout of her bottom lip dropped open, “I’m so happy for you,” her eyes darted over to Scott who was standing with his hands on Kira’s waist and she swallowed, eyes giving away what her mouth wouldn’t. 

Stiles shook his head through the shadow of a small smile, one that told her all she needed to know.

“Good,” she whispered, poking him playfully in the stomach.

Isaac was standing on his tip toes and chewing on his nails when they blew the whistle and the surfers were queued to come back to shore. Lydia kept assuring him that Jackson had done great and Allison hooted and hollered when they saw him walk up the sand with his surfboard in hand.

Everything seemed to go by far quicker than he expected after that. Jackson ended up placing second which they all celebrated heavily. He met up with them forty-five minutes after the interviews with the medalists had finished and insisted that they go to one of his favorite taco shops on the other end of the beach.

It was one of those days that Stiles didn’t want to pass him by. He turned his face towards the sun as they walked with Derek’s hand loosely curled around his own and felt the sun against his cheeks. Lydia spun in circles, her long skirt blowing up in the wind and Allison caught her by the arm and twisted her into a kiss as they stumbled bare footed down the beach. Scott had his face buried in Kira’s hair and her smile was like satin against the porcelain of her skin. Everything seemed slower. More drawn out. Easier. And Stiles didn’t want it to end.

He didn’t want the sun to set on a day like this.

Jackson gripped Isaac’s arm and threw it over his shoulder, nuzzling close to his cheek as they walked and Stiles could hear Erica’s laugh echoing just behind them when Boyd grabbed her by the waist and pulled her up into his arms.

Stiles gave Derek’s hand a light squeeze.

“Boyfriend?” Derek purred quietly into Stiles’ ear.

He blushed and amber eyes rolled when Derek’s lips split into a grin.

“Are you cool with that?” Stiles asked, tilting his head to the side when Derek’s hand uncurled from his own and wrapped around his waist once again.

“Yeah,” Derek answered easily, “as long as you are.”

Stiles caught Scott’s smile, shy and soft as he walked between Boyd and Kira and he smiled back when Scott leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I am,” he answered, biting down on his bottom lip.

It was September.

Derek leaned in and took Stiles’ lips in his own- a slow, fluid, promising kiss.

It was September and it was just the beginning.

+

And I'm gonna find my way  
Back to your side  
And I'm gonna find my way  
Back to your side

+

notes:

thank you for reading :3 leave me some thoughts if you're in a sharing mood! 

this fic was inspired by artwork created by [f0x](http://f0x-meets-w0lf.tumblr.com) over on tumblr. check her out! 

the lyrics at the beginning and end are from Mat Kearney's: Ships In The Night


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